I'm Not Done With You, Yet
by lone-star-woman
Summary: Jack and Ianto's relationship beginning with the stopwatch incident. Part 10: Jack has shut himself in his office to mourn the real Captain Jack Harkness, and it takes a conversation with Ianto about faith to snap him out of it.
1. They Keep Killing Suzie, Jack POV part 1

**Authors note: ****This takes place after "They Keep Killing Suzie," and there are some references to the Captain's Blog. F**lashbacks are written in italics.  
**Disclaimer: **Torchwood belongs to the BBC because if I wrote it, it would be the "Captain Jack and Ianto Show, featuring Tosh and Owen."

* * *

There was plenty to think about that day in the wake of Suzie's attempt to cheat death. Luckily after knocking off early the previous day, the team looked refreshed - if still a bit shaken - and ready to get to work. Even Gwen who had come so close to death had shown up bright and early, if only to gain a small bit of closure by tying up the loose ends of the case.

However, Jack's attention that day was being monopolized by Ianto, mostly because the young man's behavior was so unremarkable. There was no awkwardness in the man's gestures, nor clinging, nor public displays of affection. There were no stolen glances between the two men as Ianto served the coffee that morning. When Jack passed the Pilgrim file to Ianto, their fingers didn't "casually" brush against each other. Things were exactly how Jack wanted them to be, and he didn't even have to ask.

In spite of the busy day, Jack's mind kept drifting…

xxxx

_Shirtless and slightly amused, Jack sat at his desk with his palms laying flat on the surface of his desk._

_"For the next twenty minutes," Ianto said, standing on the other side of the desk He was also stripped to the waist and barefoot. "No matter what I do, no matter how much you want to, you are not to remove your hands from the desk."_

_"Contrary to popular belief, I have an enormous reserve of self-control," Jack replied._

_"We'll see about that." Ianto said as he clicked the stopwatch. "If you move your hands, I'm gone."_

_Ianto placed the stopwatch on the desk in between Jack's hands and moved behind the chair._

_The tickling sensations of Ianto's fingers ghosting along his neck caused Jack to shiver. As Ianto moved his hand down Jack's chest, he fanned out his fingers but kept a light and almost tentative touch. His face mirrored the expressions of many a Torchwood operative after finding a piece of alien tech that was sort of familiar and yet so much more sophisticated than anything on Earth. There was that awe and admiration over the beauty and intricacy of the device along with the fear of not knowing what to do with it._

_Of course, Jack knew that Ianto's earlier confidence had all been a ruse, and he understood that the young man needed to think he was in control in order to feel comfortable. Fair enough. Jack knew that it would all end with him on top; he just had to sit back, be patient, and indulge Ianto for a few minutes._

_He did have the urge to run his fingers through Ianto's hair when those gorgeous Welsh lips began to kiss his neck and shoulder. After all, there was nothing binding his hands to the desk other than his own free will, but he stopped himself, worried that the young man would make good on his threat. Jack may have been amused by it all, but Ianto was dead serious._

_And yet, Jack loved the sensuality of the game and shamelessly enjoyed the reverence being paid to his body. It was just the ego-boost that he needed._

_Ianto cleared his throat. "Would you stand up, please?" he asked politely._

xxxx

"Jack?"

"Owen?" Jack asked, slightly startled by the other man's sudden presence.

Owen entered the office and slumped down in the chair. He picked up the broken stopwatch off the desk and raised an eyebrow at Jack.

"Yeah. So?" Jack told him.

"Does Ianto know?" Owen asked with malicious glee. "Nah. I've seen him get all worked up if we so much as breathe on his favorite toys."

"Do you have something to say to me? Something work-related?" Jack demanded.

"Just came in here to tell you that Gwen is ready for duty. No headaches, no scars, no permanent damage. Physically, it's as if nothing ever happened to her."

"And mentally?"

"Still shaken," Owen said absentmindedly as he played with a paper clip. If Jack didn't know Owen any better, he'd swear that the medic was concerned. "But you try convincing her to go home. She's in the conference room with Ianto going over the information about Pilgrim."

"Right. I guess you can get started on de-programming Max."

"Aye, aye, Captain," Owen says as he got out of the chair. Just before leaving, he turned around and asked, "But if Ianto gets all wibbly when you tell him about the stopwatch, I want to be there to see it."

"Out!"

"Okay, okay," Owen muttered as he left.

Jack picked up the stopwatch and ran a thumb over the button on the top while the cursor on the computer screen blinked at him from its stationary position, waiting impatiently for him to complete a report of the previous day's events. Even though he owed Detective Swanson and the Cardiff Police Department an explanation for all the trouble Torchwood had caused, all the wrong words kept entering in Jack's mind…

xxxx

"_Would you stand up, please?" Ianto asked politely._

_Jack suppressed the urge to laugh because he knew that would be openly mocking Ianto who nevertheless noticed and stepped back, not amused and slightly disconcerted. Jack didn't mean to react that way, but here was this boy trying to be in control while being so bloody genteel._

_Nerves, Jack reckoned. It was cute… in a way. And when Ianto was nervous, he fell back on the structured order that his good manners provided, but there was something turbulent within Ianto. With time, confidence, and the proper instruction, Jack could turn him into a lover to be reckoned with._

_Jack shook the idea out of his mind; perhaps, the evening of sex was a one-time deal. In the excitement of Ianto's proposition, Jack hadn't bothered to ask. Of course, would either man even want to make this into a regular thing?_

_It would certainly be… convenient, Jack thought to himself. Not that he had any problems getting warm bodies into bed, but as much as he liked the hunt, sometimes he'd rather do without all the flirting, the introductions, the small talk and other 21st century formalities. It was true that eating out is fun and offered so much variety, but there were those days when all a person needed was the easy comfort of take-away. Certainly, there was nothing wrong with that._

_Ianto moved the chair to the side and, with a violent jerk, removed Jack's belt. Jack delighted in the burning sensation caused by the friction of the leather against his skin. The trousers were next. Jack let out a soft moan as Ianto opened the zipper, but the young man peeled them off carefully and knelt on the floor so that he could help Jack out of them. Then, he ran his hands up Jack's legs, kneading the muscles of his calves, kissing the back of his knees, tickling his inner thighs. Ianto chuckled quietly at the hitch in Jack's breath and allowed his hand to travel further up along the leg._

_Ianto stood up, and though Jack did not turn around, he could hear Ianto unbuckle his own belt. He smirked when he saw Ianto's trousers fall on the desk, and then came the boxer briefs. Then, those hands ran down the "v" of Jack's body and into his boxers, which was the last article of clothing to go._

_Jack pressed the heels of the palms of his hands into the desk. He curled up and flexed his fingers, but his hands stayed in place as Ianto began to play with his balls. He could feel the young man's cock pressing against his ass, and suddenly, Jack wanted to melt into the floor. It was either that or throw Ianto over the desk and ravish him thoroughly. Knowing that either option wouldn't do, Jack gritted his teeth and held on._

_Meanwhile, the hand on the stopwatch dial ticked away slowly. He'd have smashed the damn thing if he hadn't felt so good in the midst of this torture._

_However, Ianto shortly whispered the words that Jack was longing to hear: "It's time."_

xxxx

"Jack?" Tosh said as she peeked into the office.

"Yes?" He fumbled with the monitor, trying not to let on that he was watching Ianto bend over the boardroom table as he sorted through files.

"There's a small problem with the security cameras," she reported. "Four hours seem to be missing from last night's feed."

"That was me. I did a diagnostics test with Ianto last night."

"With Ianto?"

"Yes, he volunteered," Jack replied.

"If I had known, I could have stayed…" She bit her bottom lip in disappointment. She looked like a child who was not invited to a classmate's birthday party, which never failed to provoke a tenderness inside of Jack. If he wasn't the boss, he'd sit her on his lap and coddle her.

"It was just a routine check-up. You would have been bored to tears," Jack insisted. "Is that all?"

"Yes. I think."

"If it makes you feel any better, would you go through the system and look for anything else Suzie might have left behind?"

Tosh smiled brightly and said, "I'm taking care of that as we speak."

"Good. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a piece of fiction to create."

"Okay."

Jack smiled as he left, and for a moment, he thought about returning to that report. However, he looked down at his hands. They casually rested on his desk, palms down.

xxxx

"_It's time," Ianto murmured._

_Jack turned around to face Ianto and kissed him softly. When Jack pulled away, he asked, "Are you ready?"_

xxxx

"Jack?"

"Yes, Tosh?" he barked, unable to hide the annoyance of having his memory interrupted.

The tone of Jack's voice made her flinch, but didn't call him on it. She took a few seconds to remind herself why she entered the office, "Did you find anything that I might need to know about?"

"What?"

"In last night's diagnostic test. I'm just asking because I didn't see a log and…"

An image of Ianto's beautiful fingers grasping his erection flitted through Jack's head, but he managed with a straight face. "Nope, but I only did a standard check-up."

"I'll do a thorough test, but it'll take me a while."

"Yeah. Sure," Jack said, relieved that the task might keep her busy and out of the office.

xxxx

_Jack pulled away and asked, "Are you ready?"_

_Jack considered sending the boy home before going any further, even if it meant polishing himself off. He knew that affairs with co-workers weren't always a good idea, and their particular history made matters more complicated. However, as Ianto's mouth enveloped his cock, Jack found thinking increasingly over-rated._

_He grabbed Ianto's hair and perhaps he pulled on it more roughly than he should have as he fucked himself in the young's mouth. At that moment, he didn't care, and Ianto didn't seem to mind. Instead, the young man's hands continued to wander on Jack's body, caressing it one minute, scratching the next, trying inject more sensuality into the experience, but all Jack wanted… all he needed was to come._

_Then he came, and everything was silent, including all of that those voices in Jack's head that whispered about betrayal. All of those people whom he had let down and those who let him down had been hushed. For one moment, nothing existed but peace._

_And after, still kneeling before Jack, Ianto rubbed his scalp, his neck and his jaw with a joyful smile on his face. His eyes sparkled… but maybe it was just sweat._

xxxx

"Jack?"

"WHAT?"

Gwen's eyes were wide open. "I could come back," she said, trying not to glance at Jack's crotch.

Jack immediately stopped rubbing himself through his trousers and sat so that his body was pressed up against the edge of the desk. "What do you need?"

She pushed away an imaginary strand of hair from her face and continued, "Tosh just found a file fragment that Suzie left in the system which led us to believe that she may have brainwashed two other members of Pilgrim to go on killing sprees. I think we should find them and test them for traces of ret-con."

"Sounds like a plan."

She pursed her lips and nodded, "I'll go get Owen, and -"

"Woah. Wait a minute," Jack said as he leapt out of his chair. He caught her arm and pulled her gently back into his office. "You almost died yesterday."

"But Owen says I'm fine."

He cupped her face in his hands and told her, "You've been through a lot yesterday, and we may be dealing with ticking time-bombs set to go off on a killing spree. Ianto and I will take care of it."

"He doesn't have the field experience."

"You ever see him with a Weevil?" he asked with a smirk. When her eyes practically popped out of their sockets, Jack realized that the delivery of his remark was much too sexual for Gwen's comfort. He softened his expression, "Trust me. He can handle himself."

"But, Jack…"

He took her by the hand and led her back to his chair. "Gwen, if you want to feel useful, why don't you do me a favor and finish the report for Detective Swanson?"

"That is so patronizing," she sulked.

"But it'll keep you safe if only for today," Jack said as he kissed her on the top of her head. Then, he happily bounced up the stairs to the boardroom.

However, in spite of the enthusiasm of Jack's entrance, Ianto briefly glanced at him with a neutral expression and quickly returned his focus to the GPS device.

"I'm almost done sorting all of this out. I reckon Gwen and Owen should also have a sedative kit handy, just in case," Ianto muttered.

"You and I are going," Jack told him.

Ianto did a double take and replied, "But Owen is a medic."

"I don't need him out in the field. I need him here to figure out the best way to fix Max. As much as I enjoy the poetry of Emily Dickinson, I think it might be nice to give him the opportunity to move on to other poets. T.S. Elliot might be nice."

"Or Whitman?" Ianto suggested, raising an eyebrow.

Taking any opportunity to flirt, Jack asked, "You're not worried about being alone with me, are you?"

"No!" Ianto blushed. He probably didn't intend for that to sound as loud as it did, but Jack was relieved to see the mask drop for just that second. Ianto straightened his posture and stammered, "No. It's just that I rarely go out for this sort of work. I never go out for this sort of work."

"I can handle this on my own if you don't think want to go."

"No. I mean, I do want to go," Ianto said, this time with more confidence and control. "I'll grab that sedative kit, and we're off."

"Take the lift up to street level. I'll meet you there in the SUV," Jack said with a wink. He paused to see Ianto's reaction, but the man didn't even blink.

Jack went out to the SUV and checked his reflection in the rear-view mirror. Immediately, he felt silly for doing so. He put the key in the ignition, but didn't start the engine right away. Instead, he leaned on the steering wheel and closed his eyes. It felt ridiculous that he was replaying the events of the previous night over and over in his mind. He was embarrassed about being excited about spending time alone with the youngest of his employees. It wasn't as if he expected a hand job in between nabbing the baddies, although Jack wondered if Ianto would acquiesce if asked. It bothered Jack that he had to remind himself that Ianto was just another notch on his bed post, nothing more and nothing less… except he wasn't, not after everything that's happened. And Jack did have a great deal of affection for Ianto.

xxxx

_Ianto sat back in the chair; his erection pointed up at Jack in the most obscene manner. The young man was about to do the job himself, but Jack wasn't going to allow him to do that._

_Jack palmed the stopwatch over to Ianto with one hand and grasped the erection with the other. "Time me," he whispered._

_But he never knew the result._

_The stopwatch dropped to the floor as Ianto reached his orgasm, but Jack was so lost in watching every twitch of his lips and flutter of his eyelids that he didn't bother to pick it up to stop it. The issue of time was irrelevant when what Jack really wanted was to witness a raw moment of honesty from man who kept so much of himself hidden away, and it felt good to hear his name coming from Ianto's lips. It felt good to have the young man at his mercy. It felt good to see the young man drop his façade so that there was nothing but lust in his eyes._

_The seconds continued to tick away as Ianto gasped for each breath as he regained his composure, but Jack couldn't tear his eyes away as he waited for Ianto to turn back into his shell._

_But the young man didn't retreat._

_Instead, he whispered, "Thank you."_

_"We're just getting started," Jack replied. "I am so not done with you, yet."_

xxxx

"Sir?" Ianto said into the com.

"Yes, Ianto," Jack replied gently.

"I'm waiting."


	2. TKKS, Jack POV, part 2

On the way to their first location, Ianto rattled off a few things about both members of Pilgrim - information such as age, profession, height, weight, how long they may have been members, etc. When he was done with that, he began going over the agenda for the phone call with the Prime Minister that was to take place later that day, even though he had already gone over it with Jack earlier that week. Forgoing his taciturn nature in order to avoid uncomfortable silences, Ianto spoke of facts, statistics, and dry pieces of information, and Jack listened politely even though what he really wanted to do was drag Ianto into the backseat for a quick fuck. He could imagine those teeth grazing his nipple, those fingers gripping his hips.

"So how are we doing this?" the young man asked when Jack parked the SUV in an alley beside the tattoo parlor.

"Doing what?" Jack asked.

"How are we going to test their blood samples?" He paused, waiting for an answer.

Jack said nothing and opened a small first aid kit from which he removed a syringe containing a sedative, disguised as a clickable ballpoint pen.

"You do have a plan?" Ianto asked. "We're not just going to go up to them and ask them for blood samples, are we?"

"Yes, I do have a plan, and no, we're not just going to ask for blood," Jack replied as he handed Ianto the fake pen. "Have this at the ready and follow my lead."

Jack marched down the alley while Ianto kept up the pace behind him. The familiar rush of testosterone zipped through Jack's body, sending his pheromones out into the air, wafting in the young man's direction. And yet in the midst of all of this, as his coat billowed in the breeze behind him, a random thought popped into Jack's head. He wondered what Ianto knew about the mating dances of birds.

They barged into the windowless tattoo parlor where a man was getting a dragon on his ass. The customer looked up at them and froze, but the tattoo artist kept on working.

"I'm looking for Simon Stewart," Jack announced loudly even though there were only two people in the shop.

A tattoo artist put down the needle and stood. He was about the same height as Jack - possibly an inch taller - with a heavyweight boxer's physique. "That's me. What's this all about?"

Jack flashed a police badge and replied, "My name's Detective Inspector Phillip Joshua. This is my partner, Sergeant David Huxley." Jack glanced at Ianto and with a quirk of an eyebrow ordered him to move behind Simon.

Ianto said a quick 'hello' before gracefully moved around the room.

"We need to ask you a few questions about the deaths of Mark and Sara Briscoe," said DI Joshua's imposter.

Stewart's expression turned to naked concern, "What? Mark and Sara? When'd this happen?"

"A couple of days ago. You knew them through Pilgrim, am I correct?" Jack asked as Ianto moved into position.

The tattoo artist didn't even seem to be aware of Ianto's presence anymore; however, Jack felt so utterly connected to his employee at that moment. It filled him with a dangerous air of confidence. They were like wolves circling their prey.

"I'll have you know that I thought very highly of those two," Stewart replied, removing his latex gloves and taking a couple of steps towards Jack . He wasn't threatening about his demeanor, but he was on the defensive as if he knew that the man standing before him was ready to strike.

Jack merely smiled and stepped back, trying to maintain a distance from the larger man while still appearing cool and reserved. "Don't worry. This is just a social call. We just want to ask you a few questions about Torchwood."

Suddenly, Stewart became hysterical and attempted to lunge at Jack, but Ianto quickly and haphazardly jumped on Stewart's back before the tattoo artist could get his hands on Jack. The young man held on for dear life as Stewart rammed him into a wall, but he prevailed and plunged the needle into the tattoo artist's neck with a simple click of the pen. Stewart fell forward taking Ianto down with him as Jack cringed. While the eagerness was appreciated, the technique left a lot to be desired.

Jack sauntered to Ianto's side and offered him a hand, but the young man shook his head and got up on his own. Ianto did a quick check to make sure that everything was intact, and then, he straightened his tie. He took a step forward, but stumbled just a bit. Again, he refused Jack's help – even though he was obviously winded – and settled in a chair to catch his breath.

Jack put on a latex glove and dabbed the customer's blood from the fresh tattoo. "Not bad. And the tattoo is nice, too."

He was obviously frightened by the sight of Ianto taking down Stewart, but he replied, "I work out."

Ianto glanced at the innocent bloke briefly before he commented with great aplomb, "You can never be too careful about where you get your ink."

xxxx

They were on route to the next address when Jack let his mind drift again…

_After penetrating the young man, Jack pumped Ianto's erection as he thrust inside the warm, clenching hole. Ianto was on the brink of another orgasm, but Jack stopped what he was doing and whispered, "How long do you think I can make this last?"_

_"What? Now?" Ianto cried._

_Jack clicked the stopwatch in front of Ianto's face and asked, "Do you think you can hold out for thirty seconds? A minute? Five?"_

_"Oh, God. Jack, please," Ianto begged._

_Ianto tried to touch himself, but Jack grabbed his hand and yanked it away._

_"Do you realize how much you tortured me with this thing?" Jack growled as he began to thrust slowly again. "Seems only fair that it's your turn."_

_Ianto whimpered as he realized that he was in the other man's mercy._

_"Stay with me, Ianto," Jack purred. He also began to fondle the boy's balls gently. "I want you to feel everything. I want to burn this moment in your memory. Trust me."_

xxxx

Ianto asked. "Jack?"

"Yes?" Jack replied as he snapped back into the present. He thanked himself for having the good sense to let Ianto drive.

"Today's field work… it's not my reward, is it?"

"Reward? The way Stewart backed you into the wall looked more like punishment."

"I was trying to prevent him from hurting you."

"I'm a big boy," Jack said with a smirk. "Whatever that gorilla can dish out, I can take it."

"Well, was is today's field work my reward?"

"What do you mean?"

Ianto sighed, annoyed at having to spell things out, "You know what I mean. I suck your cock and let you fuck me over your desk -"

"Twice," Jack replied, savoring the memory of coming inside of Ianto's ass with a savage yell pouring out of his mouth.

"Fine. Twice," Ianto spat out. "And now you take me out to play like the older children."

"Well, if you want to look at it that way, then, yes. I mean, you were very good last night. I haven't been able to -"

"I'm not joking around. I don't want you to -"

"Oooor," Jack said loudly in order to drown out Ianto's voice. The young man threw up his hands in aggravation but Jack continued, "Maybe I thought that the thing with the water tower and the phone was very clever. Maybe I've let my bias against Torchwood One get in the way of your education as a proper agent. But now I see that I've taken your ability to think on your feet for granted, and I'm finally recognizing it."

"Well… thank you," Ianto stammered, as though he didn't want to be proven wrong, even though he didn't know he was right.

"I'd rather have you working on my side than not."

"I am on your side," was Ianto's tight-lipped reply.

"Yeah?"

"I've no other place to go," Ianto said wistfully. Then, he tilted his head back and laughed bitterly.

"What?"

Ianto groaned, "At this point of my life, I suppose that I'm the type of person who'd join something like Pilgrim or a cult in a hopeless attempt to find religion, the meaning of life, all that nonsense."

Jack didn't know whether to laugh along with Ianto, or to feel sorry for him, or to be frightened knowing that a man with nothing left to lose made a terribly effective weapon.

So he assured the young man, "Mmm… No. You're not the type of guy who drinks the Kool-Aid. For one thing, you're too much of a smart ass."

Ianto let out another mirthless chuckle. "Maybe, but I suppose I would depend on what they were selling."

"Even if you did join, you'd probably end up organizing and running it."

The young man muttered something under his breath that Jack didn't quite catch… something about the king.

"What was that?" Jack asked.

"Perhaps it's something I should look into - you know, cults," he said, even though Jack knew that wasn't what he had whispered to himself.

Jack shrugged, "Knock yourself out."

"Are you mocking me?" Ianto asked sarcastically. "After my experience with Mr. Stewart, let's not use that phrase."

Jack shook his head and surrendered. He admitted to himself - because saying this out loud was far too much for his ego could bear - that Ianto would have the last word eighty percent of the time. The young man had a way of leaving Jack grasping into thin air for the right words. It was a quality that was infuriatingly sexy.

"We're here," Ianto announced in a sing-song manner reminiscent of little girl in _Poltergiest_.

xxxx

As they rode the lift to Michael Gifford's flat, Jack kept his eyes on the numbers and said, "Same plan."

Ianto stared at the door, "No, let me be the bait."

Both men turned to each other and shared a moment of déjà vu.

"You sure?" Jack asked.

"I trust you," Ianto murmured.

As Ianto handed Jack a sedative pen, both men held onto it for longer than necessary until the elevator dinged as it opened its doors.

"Okay," Jack replied. "Just remember that 'Torchwood' is the magic word."

When they stood outside Gifford's flat, Jack was amused by the way the young man rolled back his shoulders and straightened his jacket, possibly getting into character. Ianto took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

A man, possibly in his mid-forties, opened the door. He had a lean frame and was shorter than Ianto by a head. He was also wearing a white shirt with a pair of linen drawstring pants.

"May I help you?" Gifford asked.

Ianto flashed the badge and said simply, "We'd like a word with you."

A flash of anxiety ran across Gifford's face, but he graciously invited them in. "If you'll just excuse me for a moment," he told them.

As Gifford spoke on the phone to what was presumably a business contact, Jack looked around the flat decorated with a minimalist Zen style. There was even a water fountain mounted on the wall that added to the tranquil effect. Gifford also had home office tucked behind a bamboo screen and even that was neatly organized, presumably to the principles of feng shui. Everything about this man contradicted what Suzie had programmed him to become. Perhaps after this thing went down, Gifford would thank them.

Jack tried to allow himself to feel better about Ianto being the bait, but he remembered that adrenaline can turn anyone into a very real threat. He fingered the pen-syringe in his pocket and kept on the opposite side of the room, relishing the anticipation in spite of his concern.

Gifford put away his phone and bowed politely to the men, "Sorry about that. What can I do for you gentlemen?"

Jack nodded at Ianto, letting him know that he was ready.

If the young man was frightened, he sure as hell wasn't showing it. "What do you know about Torchwood?"

Jack stumbled back in utter shock. One minute Gifford was the calmer than the Buddha himself, and the next, he leapt in the air like a growling, flailing, angry monkey. He pinned Ianto on the chaise and he tried to claw at the young man's face.

Ianto held on to Gifford's wrists and managed to push his hands away. He stammered, "Er, Jack… sedative!"

Once Jack had collected his wits, he stabbed the needle into Gifford's ass. Their prey fell with a shudder on top of the very frightened archivist.

Ianto looked over Gifford's shoulder into Jack's eyes. The fear melted into relief which became into gratitude all in a matter of seconds. Sweat covered his brow. His breath was ragged. He looked disheveled. Jack found him to be achingly beautiful.

Then, Ianto began to laugh - a real laugh emerging from deep in his belly, a laugh that was simply infectious. Ianto carefully slid Gifford off of him and sat up. He leaned forward, holding his sides which appeared to hurt from either the laughter or the attacks from Suzie's victims.

"You okay?" Jack asked, once he could form the words.

Ianto glanced at the body on the floor and then back at Jack. His eyes did sparkle this time, "Considering everything - what Suzie did, what these men have gone through, what we've been through - this mission should not be as much fun as it is."

He stretched his hand out, reaching for his Captain.

However, Jack could no longer contain himself. He straddled Ianto's lap and, grabbing his face, kissed him violently. He began to nip at the younger man's lips, in an emotional swirl of pride in his employee and lust for his body. He also was proud of himself, knowing that he was entirely justified in allowing the young man to live when Rules and Regulations told him otherwise.

"We… have… to go… back," Ianto mumbled between kisses.

Jack pressed his forehead against Ianto's. Their noses rubbed against each other; Ianto's hands caressed Jack's thighs. Jack closed his eyes for ten seconds and allowed himself to enjoy this moment because it marked the beginning of something, and it wasn't necessarily about sex. Jack had a second chance to do things right with Ianto, and it could only be better than the series of fuck-ups and neglect that marked their relationship up until now. He might regret this moment of recklessness later because he knew that from now on he might have to proceed with caution, but, surely, he could hold onto it for just a few brief seconds before reality raised its head again.

He finally got up. Ianto wiped his eyes and stretched out his arms as if he was recovering from a nap; Jack wondered if Ianto thought that this was possibly a dream. In these calm surroundings with the murmuring of the fountain, it felt like one.

Jack picked Gifford off the floor and carried him over his shoulder while Ianto unplugged the water fountain and grabbed the keys so that he could lock the front door.

xxxx

They rode back to the hub in a comfortable silence. Ianto leaned his head towards the passenger side window, gazing out at nothing in particular, seemingly lost in thought. However, he looked content so Jack didn't pry.

In spite of Jack's lingering questions, it seemed a shame not to ruin the trip back to the hub - not when he felt so happy.


	3. TKKS, Jack POV, part 3

Once Gifford and Stewart were placed in their cells, Jack turned to Owen and said, "Ianto is going to need a standard check-up for any injuries."

"I'm fine," Ianto insisted.

"You're getting it," Jack said. "That's why it's called a standard check-up."

"What the hell happened?" Owen asked.

Jack gestured to Torchwood's latest visitors, "Stewart rammed Ianto in a wall. And Gifford -"

"Jesus!" Gwen cried. "Are you all right, love? Jack, I told you that he didn't have enough field training."

"Like you had a whole lot of training when I threw you out there," Jack retorted.

"Well, I am a trained police woman."

"Yeah, you know what we all think of Cardiff's finest around here," Owen scoffed.

"I'm fine, by the way," Ianto muttered.

"So what did Gifford do to the tea-boy?" Owen asked.

"Gifford jumped on top of him and tried to gouge out his eyes," Jack answered.

"Him?" Owen asked, reveling in the shadenfreuden of the story. "He's a fucking stick figure, and he pinned down Ianto?"

The young man replied, "He was a raving, bloodthirsty lunatic at the time."

"Besides," Jack added with a pat on Ianto's shoulder. "Ianto held him in position so I could sedate him." His hand began to drift lower.

The tea-boy nonchalantly removed Jack's hand from his arse and replied, "That's our Captain. He's always got my back."

xxxx

Owen found some bruises on Ianto's back but nothing else, and then they all went back to work, seamlessly stepping into their regular roles. Ianto made coffee while Jack went into the boardroom for his video conference with the Prime Minister.

All in all it wasn't a bad meeting until she suggested that they round up all the Weevils and place them in a "sanctuary" that sounded more like the detention center the Americans ran at Guantanamo Bay. It got worse when Jack mentioned the Doctor. Tempers flared. Voices were raised. Words that shouldn't be uttered in polite company were spoken. A cage match with psycho Max would have been preferable to that nonsense.

Jack finally logged off and lamented that the action didn't have the same melodramatic effect that hanging up on someone did. While he often hated the backward nature of 21st Century technology, there was something so visceral and pleasurable about being able to slam the mouthpiece into the receiver.

Jack got up from his chair and stretched. He walked over to the window and looked down on the main floor where Ianto appeared to be the center of attention. He read something out loud to the rest of team, which resulted in a vote. Owen was the single member of the opposition, and Gwen playfully kicked his rear while Tosh giggled.

Jack delighted in seeing Ianto taking his place in the team, just like he wanted, but he also understood that while the young man may have had a good day, he may feel differently the next. Another tragedy could push him further into shell; sometimes, a simple act could cause a shift in his perspective.

Jack thought about how Ianto had left things the previous night.

xxxx

_Ianto sat in Jack's chair with his feet on the desk and his arm tucked behind his head, wearing nothing but his tie around his neck. After rounds of sex, he was exhausted._

_"I should go before I fall asleep right here," Ianto said._

_"Are you going to make it home okay?" Jack asked. "I can drive you home if you need it."_

_"That won't be necessary." was his polite reply._

_They both got dressed in silence, passing each other articles of clothing as if they were dreaded pieces of paperwork, fumbling over buttons and zippers in the sudden awareness of what just happened. The spell was broken. That feeling of camaraderie that fueled the evening's hi-jinks dissipated in the air. The scene resembled closing time in a bar when the manager turned on the lights to chase away the customers, forcing everyone to become their regular selves instead of the fun-loving revelers they wanted to be._

_"I'll take care of the CCTV footage," Jack offered._

_"Thank you," Ianto replied. "Well, that's it, then."_

_"I'll see you tomorrow, bright and early."_

_Ianto faced Jack awkwardly and extended his hand. He wore the expression of a man who, after revealing some vulnerability, was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Slightly bemused and more that a little perplexed, Jack shook Ianto's hand before sitting in his desk and checking up on the rift monitor. He kept his eyes on the screen like it was the most interesting thing in the world, even though there was barely a blip, until the young man left. He listened to the cog door as it shut, and only then did he exhale._

xxxx

"Jack?"

"Yes, Gwen?" he replied as he broke out of his daydream.

"I can tell by the look on your face that your conference thingie with the Prime Minister didn't go so well."

"It's always fun until someone mentions alien itinerant camps."

"Do you need anything?"

"No," Jack said as he spied a bottle of aspirin on the table. Once again, the young man had anticipated his needs. He picked it up and shook it like a rattle. "Ianto's got it covered."

xxxx

At the end of the day, after Gwen, Tosh and Owen had gone home, Jack went down into the cells where Max, Simon Stewart, and Michael Gifford were being held.

Jack sat on the floor like the rest of them and asked, "So Max, did Simon do that tattoo on your arm?"

No answer.

Jack tried again, "Is_ Citizen Kane _truly the greatest film ever made? Discuss."

None of them had said a word for hours. They sat listlessly with vacant gazes, but Owen and Tosh had hope that they would gradually regain their own personalities in two week's time.

"Greatest?" Ianto asked as he stepped into the room. "That really depends on your criteria, but with its use of flashbacks, inventive camera shots and clever montage to advance the plot, surely, _Citizen Kane _has made a great impact on the art of film-making. What do you think, Mr. Gifford?"

When Gifford burped, Ianto whispered to Jack, "Maybe they've never seen _Citizen Kane_."

Jack gasped in mock disbelief, "Those poor, deprived souls."

"Maybe they're not film buffs," Ianto reasoned.

"Maybe I should have said _Shawshank Redemption_."

"You don't want to give them any ideas," Ianto replied as he sat down on the floor next to Jack, crossing his legs in front of him.

"What about your suit? You don't want to get it dirty."

"After all the abuse it's taken today, it doesn't matter," Ianto said.

Jack nodded in their guests' direction, "They do look peaceful."

"I'd say catatonic is a more accurate description."

"I'm trying to be optimistic here."

"Fine. You do that," Ianto said with a shrug. "You know, I didn't realize that your were so hard up for someone to talk to."

"Seems like a running theme around here," Jack replied. After a beat, he added, "We didn't get a chance to talk last night."

"We did talk. No, I take that back. You talked; you rambled on and on about your adventures," Ianto teased with more affection than malice. "You even tried to feed me some bullshit story about how Alfred Kinsey tried to take your sexual history."

"Hey, that was true. He had to stop when his hand cramped from filling in all those little boxes."

"And, then you massaged it," Ianto continued. "One thing led to another, and somewhere in the sex library that bears Dr. Kinsey's name is a home-made porno starring the pair of you."

"With special appearances from his wife and a couple of his fellows. You know that I am willing to make any contribution to the advancement of science," Jack bragged.

"Your generosity is blinding."

"And I swear on Myfanwy's life that story is true."

"You leave her out of it," Ianto snapped back.

"Fine. I'll swear on Janet's," Jack replied. Then, he took a deep breath and said, "But when I said we didn't talk, I meant about something else."

"I know," Ianto murmured.

"So last night…"

"Last night was…" Ianto's eyebrow lifted as he searched for the right word. "Pleasant."

Jack scoffed. "Pleasant?"

"I'm sorry, but were you fishing for compliments?" Ianto teased with a wicked smile. "Because that is so beneath you."

Jack considered wrestling Ianto to the floor and sitting on his face until the young man called out 'uncle.' Instead, he chose to brush the comment aside and try to have a real conversation. "Today. The field work. It was your reward for last night."

"I knew it," Ianto muttered cynically.

"I did mean it when I said that I am appreciative of your talent, and I do believe that you have potential."

"Look, I didn't offer myself to you thinking that I could get ahead."

"I didn't say that, nor did I mean to imply it," Jack said, but Ianto wasn't buying it. So, he found himself ranting, "Okay, I'll admit to being slightly shallow about wanting you by my side so that I could lust after you. There's nothing like the sight of a gorgeous man to raise the old testosterone levels. Sue me.

"However, last night... after weeks of the two of us fluctuating between all that tension and some empty form of auto-pilot, I felt like I was beginning to see the real you, like I was finally getting through some of those boundaries that you use to shut people out. Last night, when we were together, you seemed receptive and open. You trusted me, and that made me think that you might be ready to become a stronger part of the team."

"I would like that," Ianto replied softly. "I would like to do more for you and the team."

"If you think the sex would get in the way of that, then last night was fun, but we'll leave it at that, okay?" Jack offered. He moved over so that he was facing Ianto, placed a hand on the young man's cheek, and said with a huge grin, "I have so much to teach you."

Ianto took Jack's hand and held it in his lap, caressing it with his thumb. Both men gazed fixedly at their hands, neither one of them saying a word for what seemed like an eternity. Jack's heart seemed to beat in his throat, but he didn't want to be the first to say anything. He didn't want to look up either because if he did, he knew that his sexual urges would catch up to him.

Ianto dropped Jack's hand. "Sir," he whispered. He leaned forward and kissed Jack gently.

Jack slipped his tongue inside the young man's mouth. He could feel Ianto's smile against his lips, which filled him with relief. If the young man had rejected him sexually, he didn't know how he would handle two relationships fraught with sexual tension.

Ianto broke the kiss and leaned back into the wall, "About last night… what I wanted was to make you feel good. What I needed was to feel something other than pain… well, the bad kind of pain. And don't forget that I came on to you. I knew what I wanted. It took me a while to ask for it because… you know."

"Yeah," Jack said somberly.

"But I knew what I wanted. I know what I want. Perhaps it's the best decision that I've made; perhaps it's the worst. But I know what I want."

"So maybe we lay down some ground rules," Jack suggested.

"Seems reasonable."

Jack sat next to Ianto and leaned against him. "You start."

"I'll repeat what I said earlier. I do not want to be treated any differently at work because we are shagging."

"Trust me," Jack replied. "You are not getting out of your regular duties. You are still cleaning up after Myfanwy and fetching my coffee and feeding us all. Although, maybe when we're alone, if you want to serve me my food whilst dressed like Ganymede, I wouldn't object."

"Oh, look who has a Zeus complex," Ianto sighed.

"I'll even throw in a blow job as a tip."

"Ha!" Ianto laughed. "Well, I do think we should keep things to ourselves. I don't need Owen's commentary about our arrangement, nor could I deal with Gwen's reaction if she knew. And Tosh…"

"You can tell Tosh if your swear her to secrecy."

"I don't know. I'll have to get back to you on that. For some reason, I kind of like the idea of keeping this a secret."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Jack teased. "But I do get to flirt with you in front of them. They might catch on to us if I don't."

"As long as I get to put you in your place, agreed. I am not a sex object."

"I know my next request is work-related, but since we're laying the rules, let's try to keep the dangerous field assignments to a minimum until you've had some proper training."

"I thank you. My back thanks you," Ianto said graciously.

"Of course, that will mean working longer hours so that I can work with you on some basic skills. You know, interrogation techniques, hand-to-hand combat…"

"Learning how to take down very bad men?" Ianto asked as he traced a finger along Jack's thigh.

Jack stopped Ianto's hand. He straightened himself up to show his employee that he was serious again. "Now, there's one thing I need to be perfectly clear about. We're not a couple. We're not exclusive. I shag whomever I want, whenever I want."

"But I was going to introduce you to my family," Ianto said, his voice laden with sarcasm. "We were going to go on a mini-break in Paris. Then, a June wedding. Our children would be named -"

"That's enough of that, Mr. Smart Ass."

"And I thought that we weren't going to treat each other any differently. If you want my ass for whatever reason you see fit, you're going to have to accept the snark that comes along with it."

"You'd dish out the sarcasm even if we weren't having sex," Jack complained.

Ianto considered this and deadpanned, "Yes. That is true."

"Oh, the crap that I have to deal with from my employees," Jack moaned.

"Sucks to be you."

"You suck."

"That's your best comeback?" Ianto scoffed. "God. Perhaps I have a few things to teach you."

"Yeah?" Jack asked as he nipped Ianto's chin. "Because you know I've seen it all."

"So says your Kinsey survey."

"Hey. Shut up," Jack said before kissing Ianto again.

"Hello?" Max groaned in his cell. "Where the hell am I?"

Both men jumped to their feet. Jack typed a few things into his wrist strap and confirmed a change in the victim's brainwaves, suggesting that he was indeed lucid.

"Don't worry," Jack assured him. "You are perfectly safe. You're at Tor-"

"Shh," Ianto hissed. "You don't want to say the magic word."

"There's something wrong with you, and we're here to treat you," Jack said, but by the time he finished his sentence, Max spaced out again.

"You don't think he heard our conversation?" Ianto asked.

"No. I'm pretty sure he didn't," Jack replied.

"But he did see us kiss. He might tell the others."

"So we'll retcon him."

"You sure that's a good idea?" Ianto asked. "That's how he got into this mess in the first place."

"Then, we'll tell him he was having a very hot hallucination."

Ianto mulled over the idea, before raising an eyebrow in tentative approval. "Right, but let's get out of here."

Jack snickered, "You know, if you hadn't stopped me, I might have said 'Torchwood.'"

Suddenly, all three guests flew into a flying rage and pounded the Plexiglas. Ianto screamed in fright, and Jack was a bit spooked. The guests returned to their zoned out state after ten seconds, and Ianto relaxed a little. However, he had a death grip on Jack's arm.

Trying to recover his wits, Ianto commented, "I didn't expect to hear that in surround sound."

"Do you want something to take the edge off?" Jack murmured.

"What do you have in mind?"

Jack traced Ianto's bottom lip with his thumb and replied, "Step into my office."


	4. TKKS, Ianto POV

**A/N: **Yay, this is finally finished and posted. Sorry that it took so long. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

********************************************

Dignity ceased to exist during good sex.

First, there was the act of undressing. In a moment of urgency and passion, Jack and Ianto stumbled over their shoes. Their normally dexterous hands were frustrated by buttons and zippers. They scattered their clothes all over Jack's tiny room under the office with little thought about where they might land. However, Ianto still paused for a few seconds to admire Jack's gloriously fit body. Yes, a flaccid penis was inherently ugly and sad-looking, but Ianto's mouth watered at the sight of Jack's erection.

Second, the kisses were sloppy and wet, and occasionally they became bites on the neck and shoulders. Dogs behaved with more thoughtfulness when they licked their masters' faces than both men put together, but Jack's hungry mouth craved Ianto, claimed him, and devoured him. Ianto willingly allowed himself to be consumed because he felt so alive.

Third, being on his back with his legs folded up made Ianto feel not unlike a turtle turned on its shell. However, that position allowed Ianto to see Jack's devious smile, which promised him greater pleasures.

Fourth was the matter of being prepared. If Ianto actually thought about it, wanting another person to stick a finger up his ass was an odd desire. That place was, for lack of a better word, unclean, and some gay men were turned off by the idea of anal sex. Yet, the need that burned inside of Ianto made him wonder how he ever functioned without it. Furthermore, all sorts of twisted desires -- things that he wasn't quite ready to say out loud -- floated inside of his brain. For now, Ianto settled on writhing on Jack's fingers and calling out for more. Jack appeased him by replacing his fingers with his cock, easing it in his hole slowly, inch by tantalizing inch.

Fifth, when possessed by lust, Ianto's body behaved in a most ignoble manner. Jack began to thrust, sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout Ianto's body, and suddenly, Ianto's face contorted in a series of strange expressions, some of which were ridiculous and unattractive. However, he couldn't help himself, and he couldn't care less when his cock was trapped between their bodies.

Ianto also lost all ability to form sentences in the midst of that exquisite friction. In fact, his vocabulary was reduced to one-syllable words like, "God," "yes," "fuck," and "Jack."

Then, he found himself digging his nails into Jack's skin. If he was in a more rational frame of mind, Ianto would have found his own behavior inconsiderate, but things being as they were, he didn't give it any thought. Besides, the scratching only made Jack thrust faster and harder.

Ianto came with a loud, guttural cry that echoed in that cramped space, and when he was done with his shudders and spasms, while he collected his breath, he stammered with a raspy voice, "Well… that was… yeah."

Ianto winced, wishing that he could take those words back as Jack chuckled and got up. The older man handed Ianto a hand towel to clean the semen off his body. The mess -- just another indignity of good sex.

"Do me a favor and wash the sheets," Jack said in a tone that sounded more like an order than a request.

Ianto nodded dutifully and pulled on his underwear and trousers before he collected the soiled linens. It crossed Ianto's mind that he should be offended that that Captain had asked him to clean up after sex. Coming from anyone else Jack's request would have been considered rude, but he was actually relieved that they were stepping back into something familiar even if they were both half dressed. Besides, Ianto was never good at the whole post-shag small talk thing.

The self-satisfied grin on Jack's face wasn't helping matters. Ianto fumbled with the laundry bag when he felt Jack move behind him, and invading his space. He held his breath as he felt the older man's fingers caress the bruises on his back.

"These are for me, aren't they?" he asked.

"Yup," Ianto replied.

Ianto couldn't see the Captain's face so he had no way of knowing if Jack was amused by the souvenirs of his earnestness or proud of the evidence of his courage. Whatever the case, he had the queasy feeling that he was being studied because this could not be Jack's version of cuddling.

When the older man's gaze became truly unbearable, Ianto said, "My back is not a Magic Eye, Jack. A sailboat isn't going to pop out of those bruises if you stare at them long enough."

Jack chuckled and backed away, and Ianto slung the bag over his shoulder and climbed the ladder.

--

The laundry room was a dank, dimly lit room with cracks in the walls, cinder block and plywood shelves, a wobbling table, and machines that probably have been there since the late eighties. He supposed that he could have gone back into the office and help Jack keep an eye on their catatonic guests or work on budget reports, but he sat down on a ratty armchair instead.

Ianto knew that he was hiding, but after another exhausting day, he didn't think he had it in him to try to keep up with Jack, sexually or in any other way. While Ianto knew that the Captain had his vulnerable moments, he still found Jack overwhelming in terms of knowledge, experience, intellect, not to mention sexual prowess. Standing next to that man, Ianto felt awkward and small with a sharp tongue as his only defense.

He recognized that getting lost in a man like Jack would be easy. Since he started to work for Torchwood Three, Ianto lived with a desire for his boss that crept within him. For Lisa's sake, he pushed it aside or pretended that it didn't exist even as it clawed at his stomach and his heart. But the circumstances have changed. Lisa was gone. Now that Ianto was able to feed his lust without guilt or shame, it stretched itself out through every fiber of his being, humming with a distinct electricity that made him feel as though he was lit from within. Ianto wondered how many lovers before him got addicted to that sensation.

Of course, that feeling would subside, and the pain from survivor's guilt would become noticeable once again. The loneliness never really went away; Ianto couldn't kid himself about that fact.

Not that he wanted a romantic relationship -- not with Jack, not with anyone. It seemed too risky after so much loss.

So Ianto decided, while their was no dignity during sex, he could at least maintain his dignity at all other times. He understood the rules. His eyes were wide open. He would be okay, or so he'd like to believe.

He had to believe that he would okay because he could smell Jack on his skin, and, God help him, he loved it.

--

Once he the sheets were dry and folded, Ianto carried them back to the office. Jack was waiting for him. He took the bundle from him and set it aside on the desk, which caused Ianto to cringe just thinking about how they would get dirty in the clutter.

"I brought the rest of your clothes up," the older man said. "I thought that I'd save you the trip back down."

"Are you trying to get rid of me?" Ianto teased.

"Well, you don't have to get dressed right away," Jack murmured as he snaked his arms around Ianto's waist.

Ianto shuddered as he felt the older man's tongue lick the place behind his ear; however, he found the will-power to push Jack away.

"You wouldn't want me to get spoiled, would you?" Ianto asked with a smirk.

Jack looked disappointed, but shrugged, "I guess not."

Ianto finished getting dressed under Jack's unrelenting and unabashed gaze. When he tried to smooth out the wrinkles of his jacket, his spine automatically straightened itself, and his shoulders rolled back. It was as if the suit had taken over his body and positioned him to its best advantage. He remembered the days that he spent trying to train himself to behave in this manner. Now, these behaviors defined who he was.

His throat cleared itself and the usual question popped out of his mouth, "Is there anything --"

"Don't," Jack demanded. "I can stand the sarcasm, but not this."

He froze, "What am I doing wrong?"

"You're going into butler mode again. You don't have to do that when we're alone."

"And when the rest of the team is around?" Ianto asked as he rolled his eyes.

"Well, it does lend me a certain air of grandeur."

"Grandeur? This is coming from a man who sleeps in a cramped, Spartan pit of a room and on polyester sheets."

Jack grinned and replied, "They're a poly-_cotton_ blend."

"Stay classy, Jack. Stay classy."

"At least, they're easy to clean," Jack said. He stepped closer to Ianto and placed his hands on Ianto's hips. "Are you sure you want to leave right now?"

Ianto nodded. He had already placated his desire; he wouldn't let it consume him. "I'm sure."

"Okay," Jack responded as he gave Ianto a gentle kiss.

"You're not going to get into my pants, sir," he replied with his lips still pressed against the Captain's. He pulled away slightly, but their noses still touched. "No means no."

"Can't I give you a kiss goodnight?"

"That's what couples do," Ianto murmured. He relished the way Jack's fingers danced lightly over his ass, in spite of himself.

"You and your 21st Century rules," Jack purred.

Ianto firmly removed Jack's hands from his body and stepped back. He had to put a stop to Jack's seduction if only to prove to himself that he would not be swept away by the force of nature standing in front of him, "I just want things to be clear and simple."

"Simple? Ianto, I think that ship has sailed."

"The moment we start breaking the rules, Jack..."

"Fine. No kissing, although I hardly see the big deal."

"It is to me, and we'll leave it at that."

"I never pegged you for being so bossy."

"Well, I'm glad that I could surprise you," Ianto replied. "Now, I really must go."

"Go, then. Get some rest, but be here bright and early for gun practice," Jack said with a leer.

"Fine, but I warn you. I don't want any distractions lest a stray bullet flies where it's not supposed to."

Ianto stepped through the threshold of the office, but Jack called after him, "You know, I thought was done chasing you."

Ianto paused, but didn't turn around. "Where would be the fun in that?" he asked. "Good night."

Jack didn't answer, but Myfanwy chirped happily as she flew around the hub. Ianto saluted her before exiting through the cog door.

--

However, once he got on the other side and the door rolled shut behind him, Ianto closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"What in the hell have I gotten myself into?" he asked out loud.


	5. Random Shoes

When Harriet Derbeyshire began working at Torchwood, she requested a quiet office of her own so that she study the time dilations caused by rift activity. She didn't ask for much in the way of furniture, just a small desk, a chair, a lamp and a chalkboard. Gerald allowed her to use a large, empty room next to the archives, and because he held her in such high esteem, he also gave her a drafting table, a settee, a trunk to use as a coffee table, a self-cleaning alien rug with some sort of floral pattern, and an armchair in addition to the other items she requested.

In her gratitude, Harriet occasionally invited Gerald in her office so that they could discuss her findings, but over time, their conversations became more intimate. Harriet went from sitting up straight like a proper lady to lying on the settee with her feet dangling off the arm, and Gerald went from sitting in the chair to sitting on the floor while Harriet idly played with his hair as they talked.

Unfortunately, the idyllic world they created in that room would not last. Two years later, Harriet was dead, and Gerald never could go back into the room.

Many years after he retired from active duty, when he heard one of the walls was knocked down in order to expand the growing archives, Gerald became despondent. In a show of good faith, the archivist kept the settee, the lamp and the trunk in their places. Gerald visited the reading corner to take one last look at the furniture. He sat stoically on the settee for a few moments and, then, left without saying a word. Weeks later, he died alone.

The reading corner remained in place out of persistent habit, although it changed with time. Physically, the furniture was updated every ten years or so to suit the whims of fashion. Spiritually, the corner lost its original romance and became a convenient place for quick shags.

When Jack Harkness took over Torchwood -- as he frequently hired people with very little inclination to do any clerical work -- the archives fell into a state of disarray, and the furniture was lost in a stack of files and artifacts.

Then, Ianto Jones arrived.

He spent the first few months of his employment sorting through the mess and trying to order it is some cohesive system. He himself would admit that the process was slow-going as he had other, more pressing duties in the basement.

However, after completing his suspension following the Cyberwoman incident, Ianto threw himself into the organization of the archives. Toshiko believed that he was working through his grief. Owen maintained that Ianto was using this task to hide from the rest of the team.

Eventually, Ianto cleared away the space, and upon discovering the couch, he decided to create a place for himself within the hub. He found a floor lamp from the 1950's, a pair of art deco end tables, a serviceable coffee table and the original rug with the alien design. It wasn't exactly an interior decorator's dream, but he just wanted a quiet place to sit whenever he wanted to improve his knowledge of alien cultures or learn more about Torchwood's history.

It was also away from the mess and the drama of the rest of the world. In this one spot, everything was in order, and bits of the universe were filed and neatly tucked away.

And, because no one else seemed interested in the archives, he liked to think it was for him and him alone.

~~ oo0oo ~~

The heels of Ianto's shoes clicked on the concrete floor as he walked down the narrow corridor that led to the archives. However as soon as he walked in, the lights were already on and the sounds of his shoes were muffled. He looked down and saw that he was standing on a woman's skirt of an early 20th century design. He followed a trail of clothing -- a man's jacket, a woman's shirt, a neck tie, a petticoat -- to a chalkboard with equations written all over it. He rolled it aside, and there they were: Harriet Derbeyshire and Gerald Carter in a naked embrace on the couch, reclaiming their little corner of the world.

Gerald noticed Ianto and waved hello, which prompted Harriet to stop and turn around. She smiled at the 21st century man and shrugged.

"It was inevitable," she said. She didn't sound apologetic. She sounded as if she was merely explaining the situation.

Gerald rolled her over on her back as they both laughed. He eased his cock inside of her gently as she gasped, enjoying those first blissful sensations. Ianto watched Gerald as he thrust into her slowly while she began to synchronize her hips with his. The two lovers steadily increased their rhythm while he sucked on her fingertips. Harriet gazed at her Gerald, looking completely enraptured and undeniably in love.

As Ianto watched them, he began touching himself. First, he did so over the wool of his trousers, but, since neither Gerald nor Harriet paid any attention to him, he unzipped his trousers and pulled out his cock. While Gerald ran his hand over Harriet's breast, Ianto stroked the length of his hard dick.

"Let me," Jack whispered. The Captain stepped behind Ianto and wrapped his arms around the other man's body. He nibbled on Ianto's ear and reached for Ianto's aching cock.

Harriet watched Jack work his magic with a delighted smile on her face, becoming even more aroused as Ianto reached up and ran his hand through Jack's hair, pressing the man's face into his neck. Ianto felt his legs grow weaker as Jack's hand twisted around his dick and squeezed it, but the older man held him up. Both Harriet and Ianto moaned together. Both of them were so close.

"Ianto?" a voice called out. Not just any voice. It belonged to Lisa. Shaking her head in disbelief, she stepped out of the shadows and into view. She appeared to him as she was before her semi-conversion.

Gerald and Harriet both cried out in ecstasy as they came at the same time.

Meanwhile, Jack didn't stop.

Ianto made no effort to pull himself away. He tried to apologize, but could not find the words, not with Jack's erection pressing into his ass. He turned to Gerald, who was resting his head on Harriet's chest.

Harriet smiled and told Ianto, "Gerald and I… you and Jack…It was inevitable."

Jack bit into Ianto's neck, marking him like a possession.

And that was all Ianto could stand. Even as Lisa stood there and cried, he came in Jack's hand.

The, suddenly, Ianto was torn out of his dream. He shouted like a madman and flailed about his arms in terror. When he finally calmed down, he sat up -- with his chest still heaving as his lungs struggled to pull in oxygen -- and looked around the room. For a moment, he'd forgotten where he'd fallen asleep, but he soon realized that he was on his couch in the archives. No Harriet or Gerald in sight. No Lisa either. Just Jack, sitting on the alien rug, holding his nose.

"Fuck," Ianto cried as he stood up and rushed over to Jack. "Are you okay, sir?"

"I'm fine. Just stings," Jack replied. "Looks like you had a great dream."

There was semen all over Ianto's crotch.

Jack grinned and inquired, "So was I in it?"

"Yes. It seems I can't get away from you these days," Ianto mumbled. He yawned and asked, "Christ, what time is it?"

"Around nine o'clock."

"Fuck," Ianto muttered as he crammed his foot back into his shoe. He sat down to tie the laces. "I just wanted a quick nap after supper. I didn't mean to sleep for so long. God, I haven't even fed Myfanwy or the Weevil."

Jack smiled and sat down on the couch. He pulled on Ianto's arm so that they were facing each other and stroked Ianto's cheek. "I've been working you too hard. Go home. Get some rest."

Jack put the crook of his finger under Ianto's chin and leaned in for a chaste kiss. However, the young man stood up quickly in order to avoid the situation. He blushed because he felt very daft and because he wanted to give Jack a goodnight kiss as well. Jack rolled his eyes and leaned back, placing his boots on the coffee table.

"I suppose I could come into tomorrow, and we could work on interrogation techniques," Ianto said eagerly. He bit his lip, suddenly embarrassed by his enthusiasm. He added, "If that's okay with you."

"What did I do to deserves such an enterprising staff? It seems that everyone wants to put in some overtime this weekend… well, except Owen. Tosh is coming in tomorrow to work on some security issues."

"Oh, I see," Ianto said. "And Gwen?"

"Gwen's gonna get us a Dogon Sixth Eye."

"Re…really?" Ianto stammered.

"You've heard of it?"

"Well, yes. Used to be quite popular among the staff at Torchwood One."

"Ah," Jack nodded. "You ever try it?"

"No."

"You ever want to?"

Ianto pulled on his jacket. "I should go. I'm probably keeping you from whatever it is that you do when you're not doing what you normally do… at night. I should sleep. At home. In my bed," he said, but, of course, he felt wide awake.

He bolted for the exit, leaving Jack confused.

--

Ianto sat at his kitchen table, sipping a cup of warm milk. The way he handled the mere mention of the Dogon Sixth Eye made him feel like a complete amateur. He blamed the lack of sleep. He blamed the archives. He always felt safe there and consequently let his guard down, which around Jack was a recipe for disaster.

Jack wouldn't offer him the use of the Sixth Eye, would he? It was something that he always wanted to try, but never got around to it because he was waiting for more of a life to examine. That was then… before everything changed. Now, just the idea of it made him shudder. He was trying to step out of the depressive funk, not revisit the roots of it.

If Jack did offer (and it would be so like the Captain to do it in a completely cavalier fashion), Ianto knew that he could always say no just like a goofy child in an anti-drug advert.

However, Ianto was finding it increasingly difficult to say no to Jack. Any order Jack gave, any demand he made, Ianto followed it to the letter. It was true that sometimes Ianto delivered a bit of sarcasm on the side; nevertheless, Jack's word was becoming law.

He realized how important Jack's approval had become since they began their new arrangement. Every time he learned a new skill that he could use in the field or mastered a new piece of tech, Ianto searched Jack's face for a smile, a nod, a wink, or any other sign of encouragement. It was a bit like being back in school and wanting to be teacher's pet. However, instead of getting a string of gold stars next to his name for the rest of the class to see, Ianto received a series of earth-shattering orgasms that gave him something to smile about when he was off by himself doing the grunt work.

It also occurred to him that in the last couple of weeks, he had been happy -- not all the time, but in moments that were increasing in frequency. He wondered if it was wrong to feel so good so soon after her death. He thought about Lisa's face in his dream as she watched Jack jerk him off. Her heart was breaking, and he did nothing to comfort her because Jack had claimed him.

And Harriet's words: "It was inevitable."

Ianto finished his milk and decided there was no point in worrying about an Eye that Gwen might not acquire. There was certainly no reason to fret over a mere dream. There was no point in losing sleep over the past that have already been laid out and examined from all different angles. The rest was merely speculation.

All of this confusion would still be there in the morning, he thought with a sigh of defeat.

Ianto got up and took his mug into the kitchen. He rinsed it out and put it in the dishwasher. Then, he padded into his bathroom and took a sleeping pill.

When he crawled into bed, he did not set his alarm. After all, he didn't have to work over the weekend.

--

Then, a couple of days later, Gwen did get the Eye.

Over the weekend, it had occupied his thoughts, and on the day of Eugene's funeral, it invaded Ianto's sanctuary.

Jack casually tossed the offending artifact at Ianto and told him to find a place for it in the archives. Now, the Dogon Sixth Eye sat on the coffee table, staring up at Ianto. Well, it would stare if it was actually connected to a brain, and Ianto decided that there was no way it was connecting itself to his brain.

Yet, he couldn't bring himself to tuck it away in its own personal cubby where it could collect dust and do no harm. He couldn't tear himself away from it either. He just sat and stared back at it.

"Ianto?" Jack said quietly.

"It's pretty. All the colors swirling around like a giant marble," Ianto said with his eyes transfixed on the alien object.

Jack sat down on the opposite end of the couch and murmured, "Hey."

Ianto looked up at Jack and replied, "Hey."

"What are you doing with that?" Jack asked.

"Thinking."

"About swallowing it?"

Ianto raised an eyebrow, "Do you know where this thing has been?"

Jack chuckled nervously, "Swimming in the gastric juices of a dead man."

"Yup."

"Then rolling around in charred bits of bone."

"Mmmm," Ianto answered sarcastically.

Both men fell into an uncomfortable silence. Jack looked around the room as if he was searching for something that would help the situation, but he never seemed to know what to do when Ianto or anyone else, for that matter, got very quiet.

Ianto slumped into the couch with a sentence trapped in his throat. He knew that if he let is escape, a conversation would follow, which meant that he would give another piece of himself to Jack, rendering himself emotionally vulnerable.

He let it out anyway in a whisper, "I let her down."

Jack shook his head, "What?"

"Lisa."

"I thought we went over this," Jack replied, in an attempt to regain control. "I couldn't let the Cybermen get a foothold in this world."

"No. Not in that way. If she had known what she had become, if she had known that I allowed that thing to remain in her place… Jack, I let her down."

Jack inched closer even though he seemed slightly distressed. It was clear that he didn't quite know what to say or what Ianto needed from him.

"I really am a selfish bastard," Ianto said as if he was stating a fact.

"You were confused."

"No, I am," Ianto insisted. "Oh, God. She believed in saving humanity. If she thought for a minute that she was a threat, she would have sacrificed herself. That was Lisa, and I kept her alive."

"Do you mind if I asked you a question?" Jack asked, trying to sound reasonable.

"Go ahead."

"If you had the opportunity to do things all over again?"

"I don't know if I would have done anything differently. Even if I knew then what I know now, I still wouldn't have been able to kill her or let her die. Not her, not even the shadow of her."

Jack made no effort to hide his disappointment, but he didn't look surprised. "You must have really loved her," he sighed.

"Still do," Ianto replied. "However, if you hadn't found out, if you hadn't killed her, if I was still in trapped in that basement taking care of her, that love might have destroyed me eventually."

"Maybe then, I would have noticed something was wrong," Jack said grimly.

There was another possibility that Ianto kept to himself. As much as he loved Lisa, there were those long, hard days that left him emotionally spent. There were days in which he did everything he could, but got very little in return, not even simple conversation. While he hated himself for it, sometimes he resented Lisa on those difficult days. He understood that Lisa wasn't to blame for what happened, and nothing on Earth could diminish the memories of their happy life together. However, he had to ask: was he already beginning to drift away from her when she was tucked away in the basement? Was his affection and his loyalty already turning towards Jack? He knew that he was already attracted to the Captain, but was there any indication that his feelings were deeper than mere lust? Was it guilt and fear that was keeping Lisa alive along with the delusion of rebuilding a life together and falling in love all over again? If he swallowed the Eye, he would know for sure.

Yet, he would never say that to Jack. It would be tantamount to saying, "I think I am falling in love with you." That would have gone against the rules.

So instead, Ianto smiled and said, "At least, now I can love the person she truly was. And I want to be the sort of person that she would have been proud of."

"You are," Jack replied. He inched closer and kissed Ianto's forehead.

Ianto felt his heart open up just a little. It scared the hell out of him, but perhaps falling for Jack -- when reason told him not to -- was inevitable.

There was only one thing to do. He picked up the Eye and said, "I'll put this thing away. Me, you, the interrogation room in fifteen minutes?"

"Oh, I have ways of making people talk," Jack growled. "And I can't wait to show them to you."

"On second thought," Ianto said. "How about self-defense?"

Jack nodded, "Anything that will put you in a better mood."

"Of course, I must be a real nutter if learning how to stun a man into submission makes me happy."

"That makes you happy? What about the sex?"

"That's nice, too," Ianto replied with a shrug.

"Nice? Oh, I'll show you nice!"

"Fifteen minutes, sir, and no fucking until after my lesson."

"You do know you drive me crazy, right?" Jack whined as he left the archives.

"So do you," Ianto whispered to himself. He chuckled quietly and added, "At least that feeling is mutual."


	6. Out of Time, Jack POV

He searched for her.

Jack felt a knot in his stomach that was being cinched tighter and tighter by an overwhelming sense of frustration and sorrow as he watched John Ellis fail to adapt to 21st century, and when he got back the hub, the first thing he did was to search for Gwen to tell her about his day. He wanted to ask for her advice because certainly she would know how to rally the spirits of a displaced and broken man.

Gwen also knew his secrets; therefore, he could speak openly about how he identified with John. He could tell her that he understood how this temporally displaced man felt because he had gone through the same thing. It frustrated Jack that he wasn't able to communicate what he'd learned from his own experiences -- not in a way that was meaningful to John.

However, it was more than that. He wanted to see her. He needed her presence, her smile. He wanted to touch her, to hold her, to be held by her.

So he stomped around the hub for a bit. He interrogated Toshiko, who, of course, knew nothing. He left a message on her cell phone.

He searched for her, but she wasn't there.

Finally, he tracked her using the GPS in her car. He realized that she was probably with Emma, facing a unique set of challenges of her own. (Owen got the easy case, lucky bastard.) She also had that boyfriend of hers. She had to check on Rhys, lest he felt neglected. It wasn't Gwen's fault that she wasn't around. Unfortunately, it didn't make Jack feel any better.

Owen wasn't around either, but Owen didn't do emotions so it really didn't matter. As long as he didn't fuck things up with Diane, Jack would be satisfied.

He did try to talk to Tosh. She listened patiently, giving him her full attention. When Jack was done talking, she smiled at him and gave him a generic speech, telling him it would all be all right. She also gave him a pat on the shoulder because, being the socially awkward person she was, she didn't quite know what to do or say to comfort Jack. That was just Tosh, bless her.

That left Ianto.

The young man sat at his workstation, falsifying work references for the three accidental time travelers when Jack decided to send an instant message. They chatted for a bit, commiserating about failing to help John, and while Jack continued to miss Gwen, Ianto did make him feel somewhat better.

At the end of the day, Ianto even sucked him off, and Jack felt pleased that Ianto had gotten better at fellatio due to his instruction. At least Jack was good at teaching something.

--

The week stretched on, and there were more emotional disasters that Jack could neither prevent nor fix. In the end, the 21st century killed John Ellis.

Jack finally got that talk with Gwen. He ranted; she held his hand. She kissed his forehead. His heart flipped in spite of itself. However, her family was waiting for her, and after the many times she had to brush them off for Torchwood, she couldn't neglect them on Christmas, not when things were so quiet. No matter how much he wanted Gwen to stay with him, Jack understood; yet, the smile she gave Owen when she ambushed him with mistletoe made his heart ache.

Owen sulked off without saying goodbye. Jack gave Tosh a hug and even kissed her on the lips before sending her home.

That left Ianto.

Jack handed him a small box, "This is from Tosh. She would have stuck around, but I told her I'd make sure you got it."

Ianto looked at the gift for a moment and smiled, but he put it in his pocket, "Thank you. I wouldn't want to inconvenience her. I know that she's been eager to spend Christmas with her family."

"Aren't you going to open it?" Jack asked. He leaned on the frame of his office door while Ianto cleared the trash off the work stations.

"Later," Ianto said with a sheepish grin.

Jack nodded. He inferred that the gift was some private joke between Jack and Tosh.

"Big plans?" Jack asked.

"If you count Italian cooking and sleep as big plans, then yes."

"No family?"

"They're out of town."

"Where?"

"Newport."

"Newport?" Jack laughed. "You could still join them."

Ianto shook his head. "It's my sister's in-laws. I would just feel like an outsider."

"Oh."

Ianto chuckled as he tidied up Owen's station.

"What?" Jack asked.

"Mistletoe," he replied, holding up the branch.

Their eyes connected. Ianto winked with a smile full of mischief. Jack strolled over to the young man; he put one hand on the small of Ianto's back and the other on his wrist as it held up the mistletoe. He leaned in and kissed Ianto tenderly, trying to convey some affection, trying to feel connected to someone -- anyone -- on such a lonely day, trying to make life a little more bearable.

Ianto deepened the kiss. He dropped the mistletoe and immediately went for Jack's braces, trying to pull them down.

Jack broke the kiss and placed his fingers over Ianto's lips. Then, he stroked the young man's cheek and told him, "I wasn't asking for that."

Ianto turned beet red, and his eyes darted everywhere else except at Jack. Jack tried to kiss the young man once again, but while the young man returned the kiss out of some automatic response, his heart wasn't in it. Ianto was confused. Jack could feel the other man's heart race as he held onto his wrist.

"I'm sorry," Ianto mumbled. "What do you want?"

Jack ran his fingers through the young man's hair, "Just you."

"Here I am," Ianto replied, as he tried to go for the zipper of Jack's trousers.

Jack pulled the other man's hand away from his zipper and held it, "What do you say we go dancing?"

"Where?" Ianto asked with a chuckle.

"I don't know," Jack said, lacing his fingers with Ianto's. "We'll find someplace."

"I don't know how to dance."

"I think you do."

"Not with a man."

"Then, I'll teach you," Jack suggested.

Ianto rolled his eyes in amusement, "When will I have to dance out in the field?"

"This isn't about work. All work and no play--"

"You mean like a date?" Ianto inquired. Up until he dared to ask the question, he treated the suggestion like a joke. Suddenly, the young man stepped away from Jack, looking somewhat flustered.

"Yeah, I guess, if you want to call it that."

Ianto took a deep breath and stated firmly, "Jack, that's not us."

All of Jack's fun was sucked out of the room. Dancing wasn't one of the things they did. They worked; they trained; they screwed. Ianto kept things in those neat, little categories. Jack had been comfortable with their arrangement. But it was Christmas, and Jack felt like shit.

Ianto tried to put his butler persona back on while struggling to appear friendly, "But if you're looking for company, I suppose I could stay."

"And do what?" Jack asked. His voice was sharper than he meant.

"Well…I suppose I could… we could…" Ianto stammered. He looked around the hub with his hands on his hips. Jack knew that he was making a mental to-do list, which inexplicably broke his heart.

"Go home, Ianto," Jack replied, sounding slightly bitter. "Cook your Italian food."

They fell silent. There were moments when he and Ianto behaved like friends and others in which Ianto looked at him as if he was the most important person in the world. Jack found those days gratifying and validating. And yet, there were also moments when he seemed to terrify the young man, leaving Jack to wonder if the two of them were really making progress.

"Merry Christmas, Jack," Ianto's words sounded apologetic, but sincere.

"Yeah," Jack muttered.

"If you need anything…"

"I know."

Ianto left.

Jack walked over to the office. He turned on the radio; the station was playing "White Christmas." Jack wondered how that song got to be so popular, considering that the majority of Christians do not experience snow on Christmas. He shrugged and sorted through the rift readings.

An hour later, he plotted the number of Weevil appearances per week on a chart and noticed that the numbers were declining. While brainstorming possible reasons for this, Jack picked up his coffee mug. Of course, it was empty.

"Christmastime Is Here" by Vince Guaraldi was playing on the radio; Jack never understood why a song meant for a children's program sounded so melancholy. It made him think of John's son, Alan, sitting in a rest home, oblivious to the world and unable to comprehend his father's sudden arrival and departure.

He also thought about Gwen, wearing a bright red and green jumper, surrounded by her family. In Jack's imagination, she grinned as they exchanged presents -- her emotive face lighting up as she received something completely trivial and useless that was given with love. In Jack's imagination, she kissed Rhys and snuggled up to him next to a fireplace.

He snapped off the radio and began to pace around the room. Suddenly, he wished that he asked Ianto to stay, even if Ianto wasn't as expressive as Gwen, even if Ianto's tongue occasionally ripped his ego to shreds, even if they just kept within the confines of their relationship. Ianto was still a friendly face underneath it all.

So, he grabbed his coat.

--

Jack didn't expect a grand reception when he showed up unannounced at Ianto's flat. Nevertheless, he expected something a bit warmer.

Ianto eyed Jack with suspicion. "So, there's nothing actually wrong with the rift?" he asked.

Jack thought the young man looked so much younger in his heather grey hoodie and faded jeans that that had a small rip at the knee.

Jack tried giving him The Smile and said, "Not an alien is stirring, not even a Weevil."

"No time fluctuations? No portends of evil?" Ianto said.

They both snickered.

"So are you going to let me in or are we just going to stand here?" Jack inquired. "Where are your manners?"

Ianto stuffed his hands in the front pocket of the hoodie and snarked, "Oh, so now you are lecturing me about manners? So what's next? Subtlety?"

"Well?"

"Jack, you can't just show up here and expect me to entertain whatever whim you happen to fancy at the moment."

"If you'd like I could stand out here and sing carols at the top of my lungs while doing a strip-tease, and we both know that I can be very loud."

"You wouldn't do that!" Ianto hissed. But immediately, he added. "Okay, so maybe you would."

"And I'd enjoy it," Jack said with a smug grin.

"Did you decide that you wanted that shag after all?" Ianto asked. However, his delivery conveyed annoyance rather than seduction.

"I came here because I wanted to see you."

"Oh?" Ianto asked suspiciously.

"I did," Jack insisted. He sucked in his breath and, feeling completely exposed, he said, "Please. Just for a bit. You can kick me out after an hour."

Ianto's face softened, "This week has really gotten to you, hasn't it?"

"Is that a yes?"

"Well, come in, then, will you?" the young man muttered as if he was taking in a stray mutt. He regarded Jack with pity, but also with a fear that he was going to step in it before the evening was through.

Jack stepped into tiny cramped flat and looked around. There was a futon in front of the television and an end table with lamp. Ianto had a pair of book cases filled with CDs, DVDs, and books; however, the rest were still in boxes and crates in the corner of the room. The walls -- painted in a desolate shade of beige -- were bare except for a photo of Lisa, and a framed movie poster for _My Beautiful Laundrette_, which had creases from being folded. Since there wasn't enough space for a table, a lone stool sat next to the counter top that separated the kitchen the rest of the room.

Jack said, "When I thought of you sitting in your flat all by yourself, I didn't realize that the situation was as depressing as this."

"Hold that thought," Ianto whispered. "This is the best part."

On the television, a man dressed as Santa told a boy he was going to shoot his eye out and then pushed the boy down a slide with his boot. Ianto laughed hysterically while Jack failed to see the humor.

"It's funnier in context," Ianto explained.

"I'll take your word for it," Jack replied.

"And regarding your previous comment about my depressing flat," Ianto growled. "Fuck you."

"Hey!"

"You should talk. I've seen where you live."

"At least I have a pet."

"Wash your hands and toss the salad."

"Only because you asked so nicely," Jack said sarcastically as he removed his coat and put on a hook by the door.

He did what he was told while Ianto dumped the pasta into the boiling water. The young man told Jack where to find things in the tiny kitchen, but once, he'd given the instructions, Ianto grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat on the futon to watch television.

"Wait a minute!" Jack protested.

Ianto had his back turned to Jack and called out, "Just check on the pasta in about eight minutes. Stir the sauce, if needed. You can handle a spot of kitchen duty."

"Of course, but --"

"Then, you'll be fine."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Jack said. "Me in your kitchen, fixing your supper."

Ianto sat up and turned around to face Jack. He had a devious smirk on his face, "You invited yourself over here; you only have yourself to blame."

As Jack muddled through the next few minutes, he tried to remember the last time he actually cooked anything for someone else. He recalled spending Christmas Day with Alex, the week before he had killed himself. Neither of them had any place to go that year so they passed the day away with each other. The two sad men cooked and then played cards. Alex told a few lame jokes and had a few too many beers, but he was quiet that day. It occurred to Jack that perhaps that vision of the future was just the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. Perhaps there was something already in there lurking in Alex's mind -- yet another thing that Jack had missed.

Jack looked up. Ianto had turned off the television and was staring at him. The young man got off the futon and headed back to the kitchen.

"I'm sorry for being a rude host," Ianto muttered as he drained the pasta.

"Where are the plates?" Jack asked.

"I'll take care of that. There's another stool in the closet, if you would be so kind…"

When Ianto placed the main course on the counter, Jack was going to say that the food looked delicious; instead, he commented, "This dish looks familiar."

"I'm quite certain you've had pasta before," Ianto quipped.

"I wasn't talking about the food, smart ass. I meant the platter," Jack explained. "Suzie had one just like it."

Ianto pursed his lips and stifled a nervous laugh.

Jack gasped in mock shock, "You didn't?"

"Would you believe that she once borrowed it from me, and when she died, I reclaimed it?"

"Did you steal this?"

"Is it stealing if the previous owner is dead?"

"You think you know someone," Jack exclaimed. "What else have you nicked?"

Ianto grimaced in shame. "I honestly didn't expect you'd remember this platter."

"Actually, I do. I gave this to her after I…" Jack's voice trailed off as he realized that this was the first happy memory of Suzie he had after she died. He could remember the smile on her face the first time they had sex. She was so eager to explore everything.

Ianto said, "Go on. After you what?"

"It was a replacement. I broke the original."

"How?"

"Back then, we had an arrangement, like you and me. Although she didn't have all these rules like you do." Jack teased. "It was one of those moments that was supposed to be hot and sexy. We got caught up in the moment. I swept everything off the table and had my way with her right then and there. Actually, it was hot and sexy."

"Until she had to clean up afterwards. They never show you that part in the films."

"Actually, she made me clean it up. To be fair, it was her flat."

Ianto raised his beer to Jack, "How very kind."

"Thank you," Jack replied. "So why did you take this?"

"The reason is daft," Ianto muttered.

"Is it sentimental?"

"After my first week at work, Suzie decided to cook something for me. She left in the refrigerator in the hub, and as I recall, you ate half of it before I could take it home."

Jack grinned and responded, "I don't even remember that, although it does sound like something I'd do."

"I remember Suzie told me not to take it personally. I think she may have even said, 'Jack does exactly as he pleases so you may as well get used it.'"

"Sounds like her," Jack said. He could imagine the two of them together: Ianto staring blankly at the platter with Suzie hovering over him in that condescending manner of hers that Jack once found so attractive. There was the possibility that Suzie set up the whole situation to put the young man in his place.

However, Jack didn't want to voice his suspicions out loud, "So you keep it because it reminds you that Suzie was once normal?"

"It reminds me that Suzie once nice to me. Of course, it also reminds me to hold onto my sanity for the good of the team."

"I'll appreciate that, but you're doing all right. Better than all right."

"We'll see," he replied. Then, he raised an eyebrow, "So you and Suzie?"

"Don't sound so surprised. I am quite the catch."

"Oh, yeah." Ianto said with a wink.

"But that was before you came on board. Not that it matters."

"What happened? Why did the two of you stop?"

"Nothing happened. It just came to an end."

"And then she moved onto Owen," Ianto mused.

Jack absent mindedly pushed a caper around a maze of penne and tomato. He thought about how Gwen had kissed Owen in the hub earlier that day. It was obvious to everyone else but Gwen that Owen was grudgingly playing along, and as soon as she turned away, he seethed in anger. Jack had a sickening feeling that Gwen was going to get hurt.

"Anything wrong?" Ianto asked.

"I was just thinking about Owen. What is it about that guy?"

"Pardon?"

"The guy is sort of good looking, but the way some women throw themselves at him…"

Ianto scoffed and said, "Don't tell me you've never thought of shagging him?"

"Have you?"

"He's not conventionally attractive, but he has a certain amount of appeal."

"You don't…" Jack shook his head. "I can see it in some sort of end of the world situation…"

"You don't think that you're the only man I've ever been attracted to?"

Jack almost choked on his food, "What?"

Ianto licked his lips, "He's got that tight arse."

"Are you serious?"

"Why not?" Ianto replied. "It's not as if we're exclusive."

"Sometimes it seems like you can barely tolerate the guy."

"A man with his experience -- you have to reckon that he's good," Ianto reasoned.

Jack studied Ianto's face. It morphed almost imperceptibly from serious to smug. Jack cringed, realizing that the young man was only kidding.

Ianto smiled warmly and said, "I'd like to think I have better taste in men."

Jack wanted to smack the boy upside the head. Instead, he stabbed the pasta and shoved it in his mouth. "And I'd like to think I have better moves than he does," he said with his mouth full.

"'Better moves?' I believe that phrase went out of date at the same time as acid washed jeans."

Jack brushed off the comment and insisted, "Come on, have you ever heard the way he chats up women?"

"Well, yes."

"The guy isn't even charming. In fact, he's a bit insulting."

"But you'd still fuck him, presented with the opportunity."

"I wouldn't expect anything beyond a good shag, but what about someone else? What about Gwen?"

Ianto cleared his throat and replied, "Jack, let's not--"

"Gwen used to treat Owen like he was toxic, and now look at her."

"I really don't --"

"Does she seem distracted to you?"

"Jack, I'd --"

"Seriously, if she's going to risk her home life --"

"Then why not sleep with you?" At first glance, Ianto seemed annoyed, but underneath that he simmered in contempt.

For a brief moment, Jack felt guilty for ruining the young man's quiet evening with his own petty concerns. However, Ianto had just asked out loud the question that floated in Jack's head since he found out about Gwen and Owen.

First, Ianto took a slow swig of his beer, and then, he told Jack, "Owen is just easier to manage."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Despite the angry young man bit, Owen's still got a foot inside of normality. He dresses like a normal bloke. He sleeps in his normal flat. He spends his nights out on the pull like normal men his age. And then, there's you and Torchwood and your militancy. You dress in military gear. You live there."

"I have nights on the town, same as anyone else," Jack insisted, irritated that he had to defend his social life to someone who barely had one.

"When you're not standing on roofs, looking out over the city like Batman," Ianto pointed out. "It's hard to separate you from the institution. It's quite the package."

"You don't seem to have a problem with that."

"Look around you, Jack. I think it's obvious that I spend more time at work than here. Torchwood owns my arse. Not that I'm complaining. At least it gets buggered properly."

"You don't think I'm overwhelming, do you?"

"I didn't say that," Ianto said.

"Is that why sometimes after we've just had sex, you can't wait to leave the room?"

Ianto put down his fork and gripped the counter as he tried to form an explanation in his head.

"Owen's not so normal as you'd like to think," Jack muttered.

"I'm just speculating. Who knows what goes on in Gwen Cooper's brain? And quite frankly, it's her affair."

Jack shook his head and told Ianto, "Jesus Christ, it's Christmas. It's supposed to be gay and merry."

"Well, I can think of ways to make it very gay, and afterwards, I think we'd both be merry," Ianto muttered.

"So have you always been attracted to men?" Jack asked casually.

"And moving onto lighter subjects."

"Didn't realize that was such a loaded topic," Jack said.

"Sorry. Sometimes, the sarcasm is just a reflex."

"I've noticed," Jack said.

"But it just seems weird that you ask me this after all of the fucking."

"Just curiosity. You know, making conversation."

"Making conversation would be asking me what my favorite song is or what was the last book I read," Ianto grumbled. "But to answer your question, I suppose I've always had an inkling that I was bisexual, if I were to put a label on it."

"'If I were to put a label on it.' Oh, that's good coming from you," teased Jack.

"What?" Ianto barked.

"'What?' he asks. You organize, sort, and label everything," Jack said. "You can't even be in this relationship without a set of rules. I can't kiss you whenever I feel like it because that would make us a couple. We don't spend time with each other outside of work -- even though I genuinely enjoy your company -- because that would be too much like dating."

"You know, it's not easy for me to relax around other people. If you'd take any consideration of what I've been through --"

"I do! That's why I put up with it!" Jack insisted. He knew that he was raising his voice, but he felt insulted by the insinuation that he was careless with Ianto's feelings.

Ianto sat for a moment with his mouth slightly open, trying to come up with a response. He was obviously frustrated -- like he had something to say, but words betrayed him. Instead, he rose from his stool and scraped the rest of his meal into the bin.

Jack pushed aside his own plate and rested his elbows on the counter. He clasped his hands together, resting his chin on his knuckles, and watched Ianto.

"Are you done with that?" Ianto mumbled.

"Go ahead. I don't think I could eat any more," Jack replied.

He knew that he could leave, that he could probably find something or someone else to do. However, he didn't want to leave things the way they were. Every time Ianto pulled away, Jack had the urge to chase after him. He wasn't quite sure if it was all about the challenge or if he sensed that the lonely young man needed to connect to someone, too. Or perhaps Jack needed to prove to Ianto that he was much more than sex and Torchwood since the young man had locked them in these roles.

As Ianto covered the leftover food with foil wrap, Jack reached out and held his wrist, "Just tonight, Ianto. No rules."

The young man made a feeble attempt to pull away. "Jack…"

Jack kissed the palm of Ianto's hand before repeating his request. "Just one night. Just us."

"We'd only be pretending," the young man, dooming the whole experiment to failure before it even began. "In the morning --"

"We'll go back to the way things were," Jack replied.

The young man responded by putting the leftovers in the refrigerator while Jack sat frozen on the stool. Ianto calmly wiped off the counter, avoiding Jack's gaze. But then, he sighed in defeat and whispered, "So let's pretend."


	7. Out of Time, Ianto POV

**Author's Note:** I was making pancakes one day while listening to _Dinah Jams _(featuring the fabulous Dinah Washington), and I could just imagine Jack and Ianto dancing to the Ballad Medley.

* * *

Jack had invaded his flat. Yes, he invaded. That was the best word for Jack's actions.

Jack's hands pawed at the CD collection; Ianto's hands sunk into the suds. Jack was whistling as he flipped through the cases; Ianto was squirming as he washed the dirty pots. As Jack rejected album after album, Ianto felt like his taste in music was on trial.

But he still had hope that Jack would pick something aggressive and cathartic because he really needed to release the evening's pent-up nervous energy.

No such luck.

"Do you have any big band music?" Jack asked. "Glen Miller? Count Basie?"

"You mean like Benny Goodman?" Ianto said.

Jack looked at him hopefully, "Yeah."

"Nope, sorry."

"Oh," Jack uttered. In a moment of smugness, Ianto thought that Jack looked kind of cute when he was disappointed.

"I've got a few jazz CDs in one of those boxes, some rhythm and blues, but no big band."

And yet, the disorganization of the music collection humiliated Ianto. He knew that the mess was ridiculous, and he had a feeling that Jack thought as much, too. Tosh tried to disguise her shock the first time she came over, but it was clear that she didn't expect Torchwood's hyper-organized archivist to have so many of his possessions in crudely labeled boxes as if he were in a transient state. Ianto had made a commitment to Torchwood, hadn't he? Surely, he should have the decency to unpack.

Then again, he knew that he would most likely die young. Perhaps still having things in boxes would make it easier on the rest of the team when the moment arrived. Of course, that line of reasoning made the mess seem even more pathetic since it almost seemed like he was waiting for the next hostile alien to take him down without a fight, which was emphatically not the case.

"Ah, found something!" Jack announced.

"The CD player is under the television, and you're going to have to switch over the receiver. The remote controls are…" Ianto's voice trailed off when he saw Jack using his wrist strap. "Right." Ianto snapped off his rubber gloves and tossed them carelessly next to the sink.

A jazz ensemble played "Alone Together," and Jack nodded in approval. Ianto chuckled, thinking that the choice was so Jack, and grabbed another beer from the fridge. However he had not sooner taken the first sip when the older man grabbed him by the waist.

Ianto should have known what was coming, "No. No. No. Let's sit this one out."

"Come on," Jack insisted.

"There's barely any room."

Jack moved aside the stools so that the two men could dance in the space between the futon and the counter. "We don't need a whole lot of space."

Once again, Jack placed one hand on the small of Ianto's back and took Ianto's other hand in his, pressing it against his chest.

"Could I at least put down my beer?" Ianto mumbled. He gulped down most of it before he set it on the counter.

"Okay," Jack said, both amused and anxious that it took that extra bit of courage for the younger man to dance with him. "Let's dance, shall we?"

Unfortunately, that was easier said than done as Ianto stepped on Jack's foot when they collided with each other.

"I'm leading," Jack told him.

"Of course," Ianto replied. As always.

Throughout the song, Ianto kept stumbling over his feet in his attempts to lead. He berated himself for being an enormous klutz, and he was blushing so hard that his ears were turning burning. For his part, Jack never got upset, but quietly brought back Ianto back into frame.

"Just relax," the older man murmured.

Ianto pressed his body closer to Jack's to keep steady. At least that's what he told himself.

During "Summertime" -- the next song on the album -- they had found their rhythm, and the dancing was easier. Jack tried a more complicated foot pattern, and even though they didn't get the footing quite right, at least they didn't step on each other's feet. This time, Ianto quietly laughed off his missteps.

Then, Dinah Washington sang "I'm gonna love you/ like nobody's loved you/ come rain or come shine." Jack leaned in to kiss his dance partner.

Ianto accepted the kiss reluctantly at first, but nevertheless, he melted right into it. When Jack broke it off, Ianto blinked several times, looked up into those smiling blue eyes, and wanted to run. He wanted to stop the whole charade. He wanted to kick Jack out of his flat and lock the door behind the man. He even thought about ending their sexual relationship right then and there. He wanted to do all this because he knew that he could delude himself into thinking that he belonged in Jack's arms, but he promised Jack that there were no rules for the evening and any showings of affection was fair game. He only had to survive until sunrise.

But Ianto didn't say a word. He rested his chin on Jack's shoulder and gripped the older man tightly, and the words streamed out of the speakers like a plea, a prophecy, or a promise:

*

_"You're gonna love me_

_Like nobody's loved me_

_Come rain or come shine_

_Happy together, unhappy together_

_Now won't it be fine?_

_Days may be cloudy or sunny_

_We're in or we're out of the money_

_I'm always with you always_

_I'm with you come rain or come shine."_

_* _

"Hey. Are you trying to crush me?" Jack whispered.

Ianto backed away and looked at his shoes in embarrassment.

"I think that's enough of dancing," Jack said as he turned off the music. "Bedroom?" He asked in a low seductive tone.

The initial flash of excitement gave way to an icy shiver of fear that ran down Ianto's spine. "Hold that… um… hold that… thought," he stammered as he ran to the bedroom.

Predictably, that reaction only piqued Jack's curiosity, and he followed Ianto to the bedroom.

Ianto stood in front of the door and pleaded, "No. Just wait out here for a couple of minutes."

"What is it?"

"I don't want you to see my mess."

"And?" Jack asked. He pressed Ianto against the bedroom door and whispered, "I love seeing you all mussed up and dirty."

Jack reached behind Ianto and turned the knob. The door swung open, and Ianto almost lost his footing, but held on.

They were both inside the bedroom now. Both men stared at the bed, which was littered with unwrapped Christmas gifts, boxes, wrapping paper, ribbons and bows. Jack was elated and crawled on the bed while Ianto was infuriated by the way the older man barreled over his boundaries. Apparently, Jack had forgotten all earlier arguments from that evening and had become a one man-wrecking crew determined to have fun.

"I'll clear off some of this --" Ianto stammered.

"No. Don't." Jack pleaded. He paused to look up at Ianto. "I sort of wish I was here when you opened them," he added ruefully.

Ianto wished that Jack hadn't said that; he wished that Jack hadn't gazed up at him with that lonely expression on his face because he knew now that he was going to allow the older man to sit in this mess for a while longer and ooh and ahh over the remains of his gloomy Christmas. And yet, a feeling of tenderness in Ianto's heart weakened his resolve.

He leaned on the edge of the dresser and watched Jack sift through the scraps of wrapping paper with an intense curiosity.

"Oh, I love these!" Jack exclaimed when he found a tin box of Florentines. "Maybe later," he added. He set the tin aside and picked up a beautiful black ballpoint pen.

"That is from Tosh," Ianto said.

"She had it engraved 007," Jack observed.

"Private joke," Ianto said.

"And you're not going to share?"

"That's the whole point of a private joke."

Jack raised an eyebrow, "The two of you…"

Although he wasn't sure why, Ianto bristled at the insinuation in Jack's voice. He finished the sentence in a matter-of-fact tone, making it clear that he didn't have to elaborate, "Care about each other very much."

Jack didn't pry even though it was obvious that he wanted to. Instead, he draped a cashmere scarf around his own neck and flipped one of the ends over his shoulder in an excessively defiant manner.

"That was from my sister," Ianto said while suppressing a laugh. "The toy car next to your knee is from my nephew. He spent all of his money on candy so he gave me a toy from his collection."

"That is adorable," Jack said. He ran his finger along the length of the tiny matchstick car and examined it closely, looking for signs of wear as evidence of a happy bond between toy and previous owner.

"He thinks I'm odd," Ianto confessed. "He probably picked something he got bored with."

"But what about this?" The older man spread out a hand knit afghan over the bed. He tentatively rubbed a corner of it against his cheek and sniffed it. "Smells like… bread," Jack said.

"That's from my grandmother," Ianto said as he sat down on the bed. He rummaged underneath the afghan until he found a book, which he handed over to Jack. "She used it to wrap this."

"_Travels With My Aunt_." Jack smiled as he began to flip through the pages.

"It belonged to my father. It's a first edition."

"I guess it's like getting a gift from both of them," Jack said.

"That was the intent," Ianto replied. "The Christmases we had when he was alive…" In those days, he sipped hot cocoa with his father, ripped open his presents with his sister, helped his mother set the table, tried not to complain when his grandmother crushed him with a hug. But in those days, he was free from secrets and grief, and it didn't take much to make him happy, either.

Jack covered Ianto's shoulders with the afghan. He grabbed on to the ends and murmured, "But you have those great memories, don't you?"

"I do, but…" Gwen was right about him: he'd forgotten what it was to be human. He took a deep breath and admitted, "Sometimes, I think I've gotten used to being alone. I don't relate to people the way I used to."

With his shoulders slumped and with a flick of an eyebrow, Jack replied, "I know that feeling."

"I'm not like her, Jack," Ianto said in a low voice.

Jack used the afghan to pull Ianto closer, clearly trying to be reassuring, "I know."

"I'm not even in the same category," Ianto insisted even though it pained him to acknowledge that he couldn't offer what she could. The best he could do was listen and offer his acceptance because he owed that to Jack, but could do no more because on most days he struggled to keep himself from falling apart. If Jack was looking for a substitute for Gwen, Ianto knew that he would disappoint the Captain.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to say," Jack said. He tried to smile, but concern and pity lingered in his eyes.

Ianto shrugged off the afghan and replied, "Then, it's best to not say anything."

He avoided Jack's eyes, but he could still feeling them burning into him when he got up and began to toss his gifts in an empty laundry basket. With an increasing sense of urgency, he tossed away the wrapping paper, boxes and ribbons, and when he was done, he stood in front of Jack who was still sitting on the bed. He didn't realize that he was shaking until Jack handed him the cashmere scarf.

"I suppose that you want to leave," Ianto said, feeling slightly ashamed.

"Why?"

"I can't imagine that I've been good company."

"I've had better Christmases," Jack replied. "I've also had worse. And some were just like any other day."

"Yeah? Well, I suppose that this year wasn't as bad as the Sycorax invasion."

"I would hope," Jack chuckled, but then, for a brief couple of seconds, his eyes became distant. When Jack returned to the current situation, he simply said, "Come closer."

As Jack unbuttoned Ianto's jeans, the young man muttered, "Thank fucking God," and stripped off his hoodie and his t-shirt at the same time. He had been waiting for this all day, but instead, all he had gotten was misunderstandings, arguments, frustrations. It was a relief and a pleasure to step back into something that he could manage.

Ianto tried to help Jack undress, but the older man responded by pulling him on the mattress and playfully pinning him down. Both men laughed between kisses. Jack stood up again, and so Ianto watched him undress without any hurry. Of course, the show was beautiful as always; it never got old; and Ianto's desire unfurled itself throughout his body.

Jack started at Ianto's feet and kissed his way up Ianto's leg, nibbling on the inner thigh. His lips barely grazed his lover's cock and balls (although Ianto was more than aroused by the hot breath on his genitals), and Jack's tongue licked and caressed Ianto's abdomen, causing the younger man to snicker and snort. Undeterred by the small distraction and determined to bring Ianto back into the right frame of mind, Jack moved up to Ianto's chest and roughly tweaked a nipple.

Watching the pre-cum ooze from his lover's cock, Jack growled, "I thought so."

Jack stretched himself over Ianto so that they were face to face, chest to chest, groin to groin. Keeping his eyes on his lover's, Jack ran his fingers through Ianto's hair and then began to rub their cocks together.

While they wrestled with each other on the bed to increase the friction and even as Jack sucked on his neck and earlobes, Ianto found himself searching for Jack's mouth with the intense need to taste the older man's mouth and to connect with him. He clung onto the older man so that their bodies would touch as much as possible. Most of all, he tried not to think about how it was only in these moments when he allowed himself to fulfill his desire for contact or to express his pent-up affection that was so close to love. During sex, his desperate kisses wore the convenient mask of lust, and Jack didn't have to know that there was anything else behind them.

Finally, they sat up facing each other with Ianto practically on Jack's lap. While feverishly snogging his younger lover, Jack pumped both of their cocks together until they came. Ianto threw his head back and let out a string of appreciative obscenities, but he had let his guard down, which allowed Jack to roll him over on his back.

Ianto was too tired for another go; however, his heart raced during the intimacy of the extended contact. Half of him wanted to get up and race into the bathroom, the other half wanted to lay his head on Jack's chest.

He compromised and got out of bed, pushing the older man away as gently as possible.

Jack groaned and said in a voice that read as mock despair, "Come back."

"I'd like to clean up a bit," Ianto explained as he pulled out a washcloth from his armoire.

In the bathroom mirror, he studied himself: the drying semen on his chest and belly, the crimson in his cheek, the disarray of his hair, those things that Jack found attractive. He knew that Jack could have any lover he wanted; he could even have Gwen if he made a miniscule effort. What he didn't know was why Jack chose to stick with him, but he couldn't ask. After all, they say that the best way to ruin a relationship was to take its temperature, and he didn't want things to come to an end. Although Jack made him feel a bit lost, a bit desperate and very annoyed, Jack also made him feel so alive, so confident, and so… needed.

When Ianto got out of the bathroom, Jack had opened the tin box of Florentines and had already taken one out. The Captain froze with that contrite expression a dog gets when caught doing something it knows that it isn't supposed to do, hoping that his cuteness will get it off the hook.

"I got hungry," Jack said.

Ianto was too tired or too happy to protest. He shook his head and sighed before flopping on the bed next to Jack.

Jack laid out a few cookies on Ianto's stomach before setting aside the box. "So I won't eat them all," he explained

"I just cleaned myself up," Ianto whined. "You're going to make me sticky all over again."

"Any mess that I make I'll be happy to lick up," Jack replied. He took a bite out of a cookie and allowed the crumbs to fall on Ianto's chest.

"You have rotten manners in bed."

"That's part of my charm, my boy. Part of my charm."

Ianto narrowed his eyes and said, "I'm not your boy."

"No?"

"No," Ianto replied emphatically.

"So what do I call you? My dear? Pookie? Yan-Yan?"

"No. No, and especially no."

"That's not us, is it?" Jack asked.

"We're just Ianto and Jack."

"But I'm still 'Sir?'"

"Yes."

"And let's not forget 'Captain,'" Jack said with his mouth full.

"Aye, aye."

Jack swallowed another bite before stretching himself next to Ianto. "But we are something," Jack said.

"I suppose we are," Ianto replied. He took Jack's hand and licked the chocolate from his lover's fingertips.

Jack smiled and stole another kiss. Ianto rolled his eyes, although he secretly loved it.

--

When Ianto woke up, he was alone, still in the nude but covered by a blanket from his armoire. He got up and looked around his flat. The tin box of Florentines sat on the kitchen counter; half of them were already gone. His grandmother's afghan was on the futon along with the copy of _Travels With My Aunt_, but Jack had left, without leaving a note to explain his absence. Of course, Jack didn't need a note, but leaving one behind would have been the polite thing to do since Ianto could swear that, when he fell asleep, he and Jack were discussing how aliens viewed Christmas.

Rather than dwell, Ianto got ready for work in the same way he did every morning.

While eating breakfast, the phone rang, and Tosh's name on the caller ID brought a smile to his face. He picked it up immediately.

"Hello, there," Ianto said.

"Hello," she replied. "I just called to say thank you for my present. I absolutely love my decoder ring."

"You are welcome. And I love my invisible ink pen. Thank you."

"Now we can scribble secret messages to each other," Tosh squealed. After a pause, she added, "Wait. That really makes us sad little geeks, doesn't it?"

"I'd rather be a sad little geek with you than a popular wanker."

"That's very sweet of you to say, Ianto."

"I try," he replied.

"Were you okay all by your lonesome?"

"I was fine."

"Because your flat is a pit of gloom," she teased.

"I'm thinking about redecorating. Perhaps some new shelves, some artwork for the walls."

"I have an idea."

"Yes?"

"Move to a nicer flat!" Tosh insisted.

"I told you. I'd like to pay off my debts first."

"Now that you're doing field work, you are getting a raise?"

"Well, yes."

"Good. It's about time Jack appreciates all that you do for him."

"So how was the big family Christmas?" Ianto asked in an attempt to change the subject.

"Too much food, an earful of my Grandfather's World War Two stories, out of pitch Christmas carols, which I still think is weird since we're not actually Christian. At least they don't ask me about my job."

"Do they still think you work for the Ministry of Defense?"

"Yes. However, if they can't ask me about my job, they feel it's fair game to ask me about my love life. Repeatedly. Next year, if I'm still single, I might ask you to pose as my boyfriend."

"What if I'm seeing someone next year?" Ianto asked.

"I'm not letting you off the hook so easily. I'll simply tell her not to be jealous because my family is so repressed that PDA is verboten."

"What if she's a he?"

"If he's cuter than you are, I might have to borrow him instead," Tosh replied.

"You'd toss me over just like that, would you? Whatever happened to loyalty?"

"There's no honor amongst thieves and spies, Ianto Jones."

"You are so hardcore, Toshiko Sato."

"Right you are," she replied.

Both of them giggled like schoolchildren.

"Ooh. Speaking of same-sex encounters," Tosh whispered, even though she was probably alone in her flat. "I think my cousin's wife came on to me yesterday. She groped me."

"Where?" Ianto whispered back.

"In the pantry while I was getting the biscuits."

Ianto chuckled, "I meant where on your body?"

"On my bum."

"Right cheek or left?"

"Is there a difference?" Tosh asked. Then, realizing that Ianto was only taking the piss, she growled. "You are awful."

"I'm your best friend," Ianto replied. "And I want all the details."

Tosh groaned over the phone, but she was displeased about something else. "Bollocks. It's Jack. He wants me at the Hub ASAP."

Ianto receives a text as well. "Me, too. I suppose we can finish this conversation later. How about drinks tonight?"

"If we're lucky. Well, so much for our holiday. Back to normal, eh?"

"Yep."

"But I suppose I wouldn't have it any other way," Tosh sighed.

"Yeah," Ianto murmured. He hung up the phone and allowed himself a brief moment to think about how good it felt to have Jack lying beside him on the bed and how part of him wished it wasn't just for that one night. Then, he let it go and hustled out the door.


	8. Combat

Ianto read over his to-do list on his clipboard, and a small smug grin graced his face when he determined that everything on it had been completed to his standards.

Tosh, on the other hand, obsessively checked over her software in an effort to distract herself while she waited for news about Owen. She checked her watch again. Jack should have been back a couple of hours ago.

Ianto placed his hand on her shoulder and said, "Hey."

She turned around and replied, "Hey." She took his hand in hers and squeezed it gently.

Gwen sat at her station, reading Don Hodge's diary in attempt to make sense of his decision to participate in the fight club. Yet, she had been stuck on the same page for over twenty minutes. Tosh glanced from Ianto over to Gwen. Ianto nudged Tosh in Gwen's direction. However, neither of them budged an inch; neither of them wanting to pry.

They all turned their heads when they heard the cog door open. Jack had taken just a few steps into the hub when Tosh asked, "So how is he?"

Her eyes were wide open and naked with expectation and concern, but Jack -- still disturbed by Owen's words -- breezed past her and muttered, "You can ask him tomorrow when he comes back into work."

They were all stunned and looked at each other as if trying to elect which one of them to proceed. Although Gwen was still smarting from her break-up with the medic, she gently took Jack's elbow and asked, "Jack? Are you sure? Did the doctors say that it was okay?"

"It's not as if he's never sustained Weevil injuries before," the Captain said.

Tosh stepped in front of Jack and said, "It's not just the Weevil injuries."

But Ianto held her back. "I'm sure Owen will be on light duty for a few days while the rest of us pick up the slack. Isn't that right, Jack?"

The older man's glare zeroed in on the young man, but Ianto's eyes seemed to plead, "_Say it for me_."

"That's correct," Jack said. "Rules and regulations."

"It'll be better if he's with us than alone," Ianto added.

Tosh's smile was forced, but she was appeased, "You're right."

"Ianto," Jack said. "How's the clean-up going?"

"We're done with the tasks you've requested. The warehouse is clean. Janet is napping in her cell. CCTV has been wiped. All monitoring systems for fight club's ex-participants are in place."

"Now that that's settled," Jack said. "Tosh and Gwen, go home. Ianto, since you were in charge of clean-up, I'd like you to stay for debriefing."

Tosh immediately picked up her belongings and said to no one in particular, "Maybe I'll stop by and check up on him. See if he needs anything."

While Tosh was out of the hub in a flash, Gwen dawdled, and the apprehension on her face made it abundantly clear that she wasn't happy to go home. "Call me in case there are any emergencies."

"Will do," Jack replied.

"I'd just like to add that I thought Ianto did an excellent job with clean-up," Gwen said.

"He always does," Jack said. "That's why I put him in charge."

"It _is _my specialty," Ianto said diplomatically.

Gwen started babbling, "With all of the logistics, it might have taken me twice as long to sort out all of that mess, but he manages to streamline everything so it's all so quick and efficient. I honestly don't know how he manages to sort out all of it in his head. I really think he's…" Her voice trailed off when it was clear that Jack wasn't listening. She asked herself if that's what she looks like when she's with Rhys.

"Gwen…" Jack whispered, trying to give her the brush-off as gently as possible.

Gwen slung the strap of her bag over her shoulder and said, "Well, goodnight?"

"Good night," Ianto replied.

On her way out, Jack called out after her, "Tell Rhys I'm sorry,"

She froze while the cog door rolled open. Deer. Headlights. "Pardon?"

"For the other night when I interrupted your dinner."

"Yeah. Will do." Then, having nothing left to say, she scurried out the door.

"So?" Ianto asked. He adjusted his tie and straightened up his posture, but his eyes softened with concern. "Do you want to do this in your office or the boardroom?"

"That snotty, little bastard!" Jack yelled. He had tried to walk off his anger when he left the hospital, but it followed him into the hub anyway. "That boney, wanking asswipe! That ungrateful, whiney tosser!"

"We're not going to discuss clean-up, aren't we?" Ianto joked.

"What's to discuss? You probably did a stellar job as always, which I'll read about in your highly detailed report," Jack said. He meant what he said, but in his annoyance, his words were weighed down by a sarcastic tone.

Unfazed, Ianto asked, "How'd it go with Owen?"

"The son of a bitch is pissed off at me! He's angry at me for saving his scrawny ass from a Weevil mauling," Jack said, pacing around the room like an angry panther in a cage.

"I see."

"Then, he had the nerve to ask why I should be in charge or what makes me qualified to be leader… I don't know… Fuck… Something like that."

"Perhaps the fact that you're in charge has something to do with the fact that you've been working here longer than any of us."

Jack snapped his fingers and pointed at Ianto, "You're fucking right. I trained him. I showed him the ropes. I gave him meaning when his life was falling apart. I --"

Ianto cupped Jack's face in hands. The older man resisted slightly, but the young man's grip held. "Breathe."

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck," Jack groaned.

"That has got to be more 'fucks' that I've heard from you since I've known you."

"Sometimes, I hate my job," the Captain said. He stepped back and gave his arms a good stretch.

Ianto chuckled. While he didn't doubt the intensity of Jack's anger, he knew that it would pass, and Owen would be forgiven.

"This week…" Jack muttered, shaking his head. "Gwen's been a little erratic. Tosh… loyal, faithful Tosh challenged me."

"And for the record, I did agree with her about Janet," Ianto pointed out.

"Yeah, but you went along with the plan anyway."

"So did Tosh."

Jack sulked and said, "Yeah."

"And I only went along with your plan because I couldn't see an alternative at the time."

"Neither could I. I didn't really want to do it."

"I know." Ianto sat down on the couch and said, "If it helps in anyway, here's my bit of insight, even if it is obvious. Owen is angry as well. You should know better than to take whatever he's said personally."

"Yeah. I know. We all say things when we're upset and --"

"I told you that I was going to watch you die and not do anything about it," Ianto reminded Jack, even if the memory made him uncomfortable.

"And now you've become someone I can count on." There was a flicker of smile on Jack's face.

"I'd like to think so."

Jack stretched himself out on the couch, resting his head in Ianto's lap. The fingers of Ianto's hand curled up into a fist and tightened. The young man counted to ten silently and with a gentle exhale, he relaxed and allowed Jack to remain there.

"I didn't think that Owen would take Diane's disappearance so hard," Jack said.

"I don't think any of us saw it coming."

"And if I knew she was going to fly her plane into a rift opening, I would've done something to stop her. She could end up anywhere. It's not safe."

"I know," Ianto replied. Despite his better instincts, he began playing with Jack's hair.

"So what do I do about Owen?"

"I don't know," Ianto said. "You're speaking to the wrong person, and the right one's halfway home."

"Discussing Owen is the last thing I want to do with her," Jack said with a bitter edge in his voice.

"I can imagine what the first thing is," Ianto quipped, but as soon as the words left his mouth, he wanted to take them back.

They both fell silent, allowing the awkwardness to dissipate in the air.

Ianto cleared his throat and said, "If you'd like, I'll keep an eye on Owen."

"Thank you."

The young man placed his free hand on Jack's chest and could swear that he could feel Jack's heart slow down into a steady rhythm. The older man looked up at his lover and smiled in gratitude.

They were like this, in silence, for a few minutes longer until Ianto whispered, "Hate to say this but, my leg is falling asleep."

Jack chuckled softly. He sat up and swiveled around to face Ianto.

He was about to lean in for a kiss when Ianto asked, "Coffee?"

"Not what I was thinking, but I won't turn it down."

"Good. Oh, and there is a stack of documents on your desk for you to read over and sign."

"But you forge my signature so well."

"But you put me in charge for the day, and I have inventory to do. I don't want Owen to come in tomorrow and find his autopsy room a mess."

"Not that he'd appreciate your effort."

"But I'll feel better for having done something," Ianto replied.

--

Sifting through the drawers and shelves, Ianto learned that the supply of gauze and latex gloves was low. He knew that there was more in the storage closet which Owen had easy access to it; however, considering Owen's rage levels, it seemed easier for him to restock them now rather than to give Owen another reason to rant. He was about to leave the autopsy room when Jack appeared at the entrance.

"I've done all my homework," Jack said, slinking towards Ianto.

"Have you?"

Jack stepped behind Ianto wrapped his arms around the younger man. "Yep, and now, I want to play."

The word 'play' triggered a hitch in Ianto's breath. So many possibilities. "Play at what? Cards? Twister? Hide-and-seek?"

"Doctor," Jack whispered. He slid the tie off of Ianto's neck.

"Sir, I am trying to sort things out," Ianto replied even as he pushed aside Jack's braces. "Besides, what would Owen say if we used his sterile autopsy room for this sort of activity?"

Jack responded with a wicked laugh.

"Of course, you know what he'd say." Ianto quickly got rid of his shirt. "And you don't care, do you?"

"Nope," Jack said, as his hands roamed all over the other man's torso.

"He's not finding out, sir," Ianto growled with pleasure.

"Spoiled sport."

Jack fucked Ianto almost savagely over the autopsy table as if he was trying to spilt the young man apart. Not that Ianto cared as the neurons in the pleasure center of his brain fired away.

This, he thought, was what those sad, deluded men should have been doing in their quest for meaning instead of fighting Weevils. They should have been shagging each other madly. They should have been howling out each other's names in reckless abandon. This was raw and primal and real, and it made Ianto feel every inch a man, more so than any fight that he'd ever been in.

When Ianto reached his orgasm all his thoughts ran together. The speech center of his brain could only grasp and comprehend one word. Thus, Ianto yelled out, "Jack!"

For a few seconds after they both came, Jack kept his lips pressed up against Ianto's neck and clutched his lover tightly. He whispered, "I made something for you."

Jack turned on the monitors in the autopsy bay.

"What's this?" Ianto asked, still recovering his breath.

"I measured your vital stats…"

"During sex?"

"Yep."

"Why?"

"Because you were there, and I have access to the medical scanner…I got curious."

"'I got curious.' If you ever do write those memoirs, that should be the title."

"Look here. Your heart rate maxed out 116 beats per minute -- about average," Jack said while giving Ianto a playful slap on his bare ass. "Typically, the heart rate doesn't go over 130 during orgasm."

"I suppose you want to know what would it would take to get me over that number."

"Now there's an idea for an interesting experiment."

"It's good to have a goal."

Jack chuckled and brought up another set of vitals. "Hey. If you ever need proof that you send my heart racing, here you go."

"Oh, now there's a line if I've ever heard one," Ianto replied. "And this is all a bit clinical."

Jack rolled his eyes.

"Lucky for you, I like clinical," Ianto said. "It's like medi-porn."

"And it's documentation that we've had simultaneous orgasms."

"Look at us on the same wavelength."

"I'll save you a copy," Jack said.

"But for the love of anything that you find holy, if there is such a thing, please delete the originals from Owen's records."

After getting dressed, Ianto cleaned and sterilized the autopsy room; however, he wondered how he was going to share the room with Owen without breaking into a huge, silly grin.

He returned his attention to the inventory list on the clipboard and was walking to the supply closet when Jack grabbed him and dragged him into the boardroom for Chinese food and an episode of _Firefly_. Apparently, Tosh had recommended it to Jack.

Just as they finished their meal, the alarm went off.

"Weevil sighting," Ianto reported.

"They just couldn't take the night off, could they?"

--

Ianto began the hunt with some trepidation. It was strange knowing that the Weevils might be telepathic at any level -- that whatever pain he called this particular creature could be felt by its entire family. There was a voice in the back of his head reminding him that they had been through a lot over the past few weeks.

Of course, they were still monsters capable of tearing grown men apart. They encountered two Weevils in an abandoned building. The adolescent Weevil escaped into the streets. The adult made a wild, staggering lunge at Jack.

"Go after the other one!" Jack ordered, even as he was wrestling with the adult.

With that command, Ianto realized that things had to be business as usual.

He tracked it down a few blocks over, where it was hiding next to a dumpster outside a restaurant. The Weevil railed at him in barbaric grunts and growls, but Ianto moved closer despite being armed with only a pair of handcuffs and an anti-Weevil spray that perhaps wasn't as effective as he'd like to think.

The Weevil, while young and inexperienced, still tried to put up a fight even after it was sprayed. Ianto improvised and smashed a wooden crate against its head before spaying it again. It yawped and shuddered, but Ianto threw it savagely on the ground and pinned his knee into its back to cuff it, showing it that he wasn't a man to trifle with. He knelt like this for a while until his breath settled into a steady pattern. Then, he placed a hood over the Weevil's head and glanced around the alley for witnesses.

"Sir," he said into his comm. No answer. "Sir, I've restrained the Weevil." Still nothing. Ianto figured that Jack probably had his hands full. He waited for a minute and tried again, "Sir, can you hear me?"

"Yeah," Jack grunted.

"I've got my Weevil. What about you?"

"Took a little work," Jack replied before coughing violently.

"You all right?"

"What's your location? I'll come around to pick you up," Jack said through gritted teeth.

"Jack, I asked if you were all right. Look. Maybe I should go to you," Ianto said even as he listened to the sounds of the SUV's door opening and shutting.

"With a Weevil in tow?"

"Sod the Weevil. You sound hurt," Ianto said, but the engine roared.

"Just tell me where you are before these Weevils get any ideas," Jack insisted.

Ianto gave Jack the directions to his location and sat in the alley waiting to be picked up. He kept telling himself that Jack wouldn't drive and put people in unnecessary danger if he was hurt that badly. But with Owen's attack still imprinted in his brain, he couldn't help but worry. He would be on edge until the moment he saw Jack and saw with his own eyes that Jack was okay.

When Jack got out of the SUV, his greatcoat was buttoned up to his neck, and he was holding onto it as if the coat was keeping him from falling apart while wincing in pain.

"Jack, what's wrong?" Ianto asked.

"Nothing. I'm a little winded. It's been a while since I've had to go head to head with a drunken Weevil."

"You sit in the SUV --"

"No," Jack said. "I'm fine. I'll help."

"I've gotten this far with it. I think I can handle it on my own."

"Fine, but I'm still driving."

"Of course. Far be it from me to take away your toy."

They got back to the hub and placed the Weevils in the cells. Although Jack appeared to be perfectly normal after the drive back, Ianto was still worried. From time to time, when Jack thought Ianto wasn't looking, he kept touching the front of his coat, which was still buttoned up.

Ianto locked the cell, turned to Jack and said, "All right, sir. Up to the autopsy bay."

"What for?" Jack asked. It was like he'd forgotten he was injured.

"Since our medic won't be here until tomorrow, it's my duty perform an examination."

"I can do that myself," Jack replied.

"Let me at least take your coat."

"I said, I can do it myself!"

"Fine. No need to yell. I only wanted to confirm with my own eyes that you haven't been injured too badly," the young man said.

"I didn't mean to yell," Jack said softly. "Long day."

"For both of us."

"Why don't you go into the showers? And when I've determined that there is nothing wrong with me, I'll join you."

Despite feeling patronized, Ianto sulked his way to the locker rooms. Had he been a more emotional man, he would have crumpled up his jacket and left it into a heap on the floor. He would have tossed his shoes in his locker so that they'd make a crashing sound on the metal door. Sadly, he was the sort of man who hung his jackets on padded hangers and arranged his shoes so that on the floor of his locker, one inch apart and perfectly parallel to each other. That didn't mean that he wasn't upset.

However, Ianto remembered that Owen was running low on certain items. Despite feeling slightly embarrassed about using such a flimsy excuse to check up on Jack, he had to know what was the matter.

Once he got all the necessary supplies from the storage closet, Ianto carried them into the autopsy room. It was empty. He left all of the items on top of the table and searched for Jack.

He entered the office and immediately noticed Jack's greatcoat lying on the desk. Common sense told him to call out the Captain's name; his instinct told him to hang up the coat. He picked up the coat.

That was when he noticed the blood on the inside. He had handled the coat enough times to know that the stain was new.

Jack's manhole was open so Ianto padded towards it and crouched down to peek inside.

There was a bloody, shredded mass of fabric on the bed that Ianto recognized as Jack's shirt -- the one he'd been wearing earlier that day. As soon as Jack came into view, Ianto scurried away from the hole as silently as possible, but he couldn't leave the room. He couldn't even pick himself up off the floor. So he sat and listened to the crinkling of paper coming from the Captain's room. Finally, it was the sound of Jack's boots against the metal rungs of the ladder that compelled Ianto to stand.

Jack's mouth twitched nervously into a smile. He was shirtless, and his chest was flawless. Not so much as a scratch. He also carried a brown paper bag.

"Why aren't you wet and naked?" Jack asked with a lecherous grin.

"I was beginning to wonder what was taking you so long," Ianto answered.

"I just need to toss out this bit of rubbish. I'll be with you in a tick."

"I can take it."

"I was trying to save you the trouble."

"It's my job," Ianto replied. "You know that I'm here to take care of your things." To make his point, he picked up the Jack's greatcoat.

The older man grimaced almost imperceptibly as Ianto ran his fingers over the blood stain. Ianto kept his eyes on Jack, silently challenging him to speak. Jack said nothing, but he handed Ianto the brown paper bag.

"Looks like I was worried for nothing," Ianto said.

"Pardon?"

Ianto gestured to Jack's chest.

"Yeah. Told you," Jack said as he slipped by Ianto and out of his office.

-

Standing next to an incinerator, Ianto took the shirt out of the paper bag and held it up to examine it. Had he shown it to Tosh or to Owen, they would have told him that whoever was wearing that shirt suffered from a nasty Weevil attack based on the rips in the fabric that were outlined in red. Jack's chest was flawless. Not even a scratch.

But then there was the inside of his coat, the staggering as he came out of the SUV, his refusal to be examined. Ianto suddenly felt queasy. He always expected that Jack would break his heart by sleeping with someone else. He never expected to be feel so confused and betrayed by the sight of a blood-stained shirt.

But Jack was Jack. While Ianto knew about the 51st century pheromones and a thing or two about the time traveling, Ianto didn't even know where Jack was born or how he came to work for Torchwood amongst so many other mysteries. What made him feel slightly ridiculous and deluded was that he always assumed that Jack would open up when he was ready, when they were a proper couple.

Ianto crumpled the shirt into the paper bag, tossed it into the incinerator and lit the flame.

-

He went back into the autopsy bay to put away the pile of medical supplies he left on the table. He needed something to do, something to organize, something that would placate his mind's need for order. Jack had already started the task. Ianto entered anyway, still hoping for an explanation.

He looked at Owen's monitor. Jack was running a standard medical scan on the Weevils.

Ianto said, "I had to hit mine over the head to subdue it. Looks like no harm done."

"You did what you had to," Jack replied.

"At least, he's in one piece. Nobody could accuse us of being excessively cruel to them, not like those wankers from the club."

Jack shrugged. "That is if anyone was around to make any accusations."

"Pardon?"

"You know, outside the government and all that," Jack said. "We answer to no one."

"Oh. Right. I suppose we're working on the honor system here, aren't we? Everyone just has to trust that you will do what's best."

Jack's face was unreadable and remote. "Yeah."

"If it's all right with you, it's been a long day. I think I should go home."

"That's perfectly understandable," Jack replied. He gestured towards Ianto's bare feet. "Just don't forget your shoes."

"Right."

"And Ianto?"

"Yes, sir?" the young man asked.

"Good work today. I mean it. On days like today, I feel better knowing that someone like you is by my side."

Ianto bowed slightly and replied with a tight-lipped smile, "Thank you, sir. Good night."

"Good night."

Ianto had hope, but some days, he wondered how much it was going to cost him in the end.


	9. Captain Jack Harkness Ianto POV

**Disclaimer: **Torchwood isn't mine. *sigh* However, Eric is my creation. He first appeared in another one of my fics, "Cupp(l)ing."

**Author's Note: **"Love is leprosy" is one of my old high school English teacher's favorite expressions.

Sorry that it's been a while since I've updated. There really is no excuse other than my relentless nitpicking of my own work. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

"Dude!" the barista yelled in his brash American accent as soon as Ianto walked into the café.

"Vietnamese coffee," Ianto replied. He pointed at an empty table in the corner of the room.

"Awesome."

"Thank you, Eric."

As soon as he sat down, Ianto closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. He inhaled, concentrating on the scent of flowers and spices, possibly even lemons, in the air. He exhaled, blowing out the tension from his body and centering himself.

He was trying not to think about shooting Owen, but the scene kept replaying in his mind. He still didn't know where he got the strength or the audacity to do such a thing, but the feeling of fright ran like an electric shock through his body when he pulled the trigger. Even now, he still felt oddly wired in spite of feeling physically tired.

And then, there were the reactions of the rest of the team.

The tenacity and defiance in Owen's eyes became, for a moment, victory. However, the victory was short-lived. Diane was still missing, and Owen was right back where he'd started -- angry, bitter and clueless.

Both Tosh and Gwen had wide-eyed expressions of surprise, but while Gwen was amused by the whole scenario, Tosh was disappointed in knowing that her best friend would have stranded her in another era despite her efforts to get home. She rubbed the palm of her hand, unable to meet Ianto's eyes.

For the briefest of moments, Jack smiled, but, after a few vague words, he quickly retreated into his office to brood. Ianto discovered that there was a real Captain Harkness who died heroically in 1941, and then there was the man he thought he knew. The men had met, and something had happened between the two. Ianto watched as Jack poured himself a drink. He knew the older man well enough to know what that meant, but the wall between them prevented him from asking what was the matter.

The two men went through the motions for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening, limiting their conversation to a few rift reports and offers of food and drink. Ianto ordered Jack a Chinese meal, which the older man did not touch.

So when Jack told them all to go home, Ianto was the first to leave, but he decided that home wasn't a very good option since it was very likely that he'd pass the evening sitting around and dissecting the events of the day. Instead, he opted for a cup of coffee prepared with the utmost care just for him and for a sliver of something that resembled a normal life.

Ianto opened his eyes and looked around.

Wendy, one of the waitresses, opened the kitchen door, and the aroma from the coffee roasters burst into the room. Eric sighed dramatically before resuming his work. A lesbian couple held hands in the opposite corner. A man in a leather jacket held an animated discussion with his geeky friends. A student read out of a beginner's Portuguese textbook to her companion; her mouth contorted awkwardly as she struggled with pronunciations. A group on the sofa gossiped and giggled.

Above all of the chatter, "It's The End Of The World As We Know It" rang out of the stereo speakers. Not exactly the song Ianto would have chosen, but he was also relieved to be far away from anything that reminded him of the 1940's.

"Here you go," Eric said, placing a cup of coffee and a spoon on the table.

"This isn't my order."

"Relax. I'll get it to you soon. I thought you'd like to sample the new lot we got yesterday."

Ianto understood that he should be flattered since Eric didn't do this for everyone. Using the spoon, he pushed the grounds to the bottom of the cup before sniffing the coffee. "Floral with a hint of vanilla bean."

Eric nodded in agreement before sitting down. "Hope you don't mind, but I've been on my feet for most of the day. I need a break."

"I might not be very good company," Ianto told him.

"You look like you could use a friend."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"You never do," Eric said with a broad smile. "Well, we can talk about something else, anything. Talking's good. I'd offer you my coffee wisdom, but you are well-versed in the arts. Dude, by the way, that blend you created last week -- that was a little piece of sunshine. You have no idea how much that made me happy."

"Thank you," Ianto replied. He slurped the coffee. It was not exactly a very dignified way to drink amongst the rest of the crowd, but with Eric's expectant eyes on him, he thought that he should at least taste it properly. "Yep, definitely vanilla. Somewhat acidic, but that may be due to the citrus notes. I also detect chocolate. Light body. What's the origin?"

"Bolivia. Caranavi Plantation. And the verdict is?"

"Lovely, but I still prefer the Mexican organic."

"Yeah, but we're running out of that pretty quickly and won't get another shipment in for another two to three weeks," Eric said as he leaned back in his chair. "How's the family?

"Fine. Last I spoke with them."

"How're the tourists treating you?"

"Haven't had any complaints."

"The boss?"

Ianto took another sip of the coffee. "Hmm… yes… chocolate. Slightly sweet."

"The two of you. Did that ever happen?"

Ianto cleared his throat and asked, "Where's my order?"

"Wendy!" Eric exclaimed.

The waitress approached the table with the Vietnamese coffee. "God, you're been in charge for one whole evening and already you've become lord of the manor, haven't you?"

Eric leaned over the table and said, "There's no shame if it did happen."

"Ooh, what're we going on about?" Wendy asked.

Ianto handed her some money and told her, "Keep the change."

But she didn't take the hint. She hovered over Eric with her arms wrapped around his neck.

The distinct reddening of the other man's complexion prompted Eric to say, "Wen, sweetie, someone's gotta work the register…"

"No fun when he's in charge, he is," she muttered as she walked back to the counter.

"I'm inclined to believe that you and your boss are putting your straws in the same milkshake," Eric said with a grin.

"Are you asking if we've had a threesome?"

"No! No. Fuck. Not at all. What I meant is, like, in the 1950's, when the kids went steady they…" Eric cocked his head and said, "Wait. Have you?"

"No."

"But you guys are riding through town on a bicycle built for two, right?"

"Has the other waitress -- I believe her name is Monica -- had her baby yet?" Ianto asked.

"Not yet, but any day now. Of course, you realize that I'm reading all of this deflection as confirmation of my suspicions. The boss man -- how'd it all go down?"

Ianto sipped his drink and carefully wiped his lips.

"Not going to talk about it," they both said in unison.

Eric shrugged and said, "Hey, I ask because I like you. You're my favorite customer."

"I almost believe that."

"Do. Not many people have a discerning palate like yours."

"Well, not very many roasters have your talent, which is why I keep coming here," Ianto conceded. "But sometimes I wonder if it's my lot in life to be badgered by impertinent Americans."

"You went into the tourism industry," Eric said, throwing up his palms.

"Yes, I did."

"What's the deal? You guys have a fight because the look on your face when you walked in here… dude. It hurts my soul to see you so down."

"Do you plan on harassing me until I say something?"

"I'm just saying, if you want to talk about it, I'm here."

"There's not much to tell."

"Somehow, I don't believe it," Eric replied. "You know he comes in here from time to time. Always a complete charmer. He flirts. A lot. Gay, straight, transgendered -- doesn't matter. Wendy totally wants to have his puppies."

"That's quite a colorful phrase."

"Is it the flirting? Is that why you're pissed?"

"No. I'm not upset about that. And in all likelihood, it's more than flirting, but it's still okay with me."

"Okay," Eric said, skeptically raising an eyebrow.

"Jack and I… it's complicated."

"Tell you what. I'll show you my scars if you show me yours because, dude, I know complicated." Reaching underneath the collar of his t-shirt, the barista fished out of a small portrait of the Blessed Virgin that hung on a chain around his neck. "I've tried, but I can't get rid of her."

"I'm sorry," Ianto said although he had no idea why he was apologizing.

"About a month ago, I started going to Mass again. First time I went, I thought it would be all weird or that I'd still angry, but, sitting in the pews, looking around at the parishioners, I kept thinking about how it should have been me up there leading it."

Ianto's coffee almost went down the wrong pipe. Once he stopped coughing, he said, "You… you were going to…"

"I left before I took my final vows."

"Oh." As he straightened his tie, Ianto wondered if the foul language and the laid-back dude persona were the armor Eric used to hide the past. If that was true, when did the mask become the person?

Eric sat up and shrugged. "We've all got our shit, right?" After a deep sigh, he smiled with a hint of pain still lingering in his eyes. "But in comparison to all that old drama, my current life is more mundane. Then again, my boyfriend dumped me last week."

"What happened?"

"He said what we had ran its course," Eric muttered. "It ran its course," he repeated, drawing out the vowel in the verb. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Ianto remembered that Jack had said that once about his fling with Suzie. He tried to express shock or anger or disappointment -- anything that would convey empathy. Instead, he sounded tired. "It makes the relationship sound like influenza."

"I know, right. And he says this to me in a supermarket produce section. I sort of lost my shit. There was some yelling, mostly crying."

"I am in no position to judge."

"My aunt always says, 'Love is leprosy. Get it, and you fall to pieces.'"

Ianto immediately thought about Owen and the nagging feeling of guilt twisted in his stomach. "I hope you're feeling better these days."

"Eh… but there's always coffee to roast."

"Yes, and you never compromised one bean. I have to admire that."

"Gotta have something that keeps you together and centered. It's just a hill of beans, but…"

"It means something to you."

Eric did the "you are correct" gesture from charades. Then, he said, "If love has to be a disease, why can't it be, like, synesthesia?"

"Synesthesia is not a disease."

"No?"

"Synesthesia is not an affliction, nor a disability. It doesn't necessarily interfere with a person's quality of life. And I believe people are born with it," Ianto said. "Unless they're on drugs; then, it's only temporary."

Eric snickered. "What I mean is that love should -- I don't know -- make you experience things differently, change your perspective, open your mind."

"I suppose it might be interesting to smell the words, taste the colors, or see the music."

"Of course, it's probably not kittens and candy floss all the time."

"Neither is love," Ianto murmured.

"So your boss?" Eric said, even though Ianto groaned in mock despair. "Does he make you taste the rainbow?"

"Jack has opened my eyes. He does help me to see things from an entirely different perspective. But he's older and not from Cardiff, and he has different ideas. It stands to reason that he'd have a different perspective on life and such things. And he is my boss which means that I try to learn as much as I can from him."

The barista blinked his eyes a couple of times and looked at the other man with a blank expression.

Ianto paused and sipped his coffee. He said, "I will say that when it's good, it's brilliant. He makes me want to be a better person. He makes me believe that I can be a better person."

"When it's not good?"

_It was like being invisible. _"Above all else, he is still my boss."

"You could always come here and roast coffee with me."

"As tempting as that offer sounds, I reckon I'd miss telling the tourists where they can go," Ianto said.

"That almost sounded rude."

"Did it?"

"A bit. I'm seeing a whole new side of you, Ianto."

"I haven't told anyone else about Jack."

"Your secret's safe with me. The bond between a man and his roaster is sacred. Think of me as your spiritual leader. I had the training -- well, part of the training anyway."

"Catholicism's loss is my misfortune," Ianto said. "A co-worker knows. He thinks it's just a shag. He may be right, of course."

"What does your boss say?"

"It's not something we talk about."

"Maybe you should."

They fell silent. Ianto sipped his coffee, enjoying the sweetness and the slight tang of the condensed milk. Eric touched his fingers to his lips before tucking the Virgin underneath his shirt collar.

"Force of habit," the barista said when he caught the other man looking at him.

"I know you seem happy here."

"I am happy here."

"But do you… do you miss the Church?" Ianto asked.

"As far as helping people, I think I can do that here, and at least I don't feel so removed from the rest of the world."

"I know that feeling."

Eric examined the other man's face, "Yeah, I can see that."

Ianto took another sip from his cup, turning his eyes to wall on the other side of the room.

"I loved the Church," Eric said. "It taught me about love and respect and sacrifice, but what was once the center of my existence became cold and uncompromising when I decided that I couldn't renounce what I am. Then, the Church rejected me without feeling or compassion."

"Do you still believe?"

"Still trying to figure that one out. You?"

"I'd like to believe that everything happens for a reason, but…" Working for Torchwood had challenged everything that Ianto thought he knew about the universe. With the variety of aliens that he'd seen, he no longer believed that humans were special in God's eyes. After concocting several dozen cover stories for the police and the media, he wondered if half the events in the Bible were the misinterpretation of alien phenomena. Of course, he couldn't explain this to Eric, so he said, "I'm trying to figure that out myself."

"Wanna know why I started going to Mass again?" Eric asked.

"Why?"

"I keep having this dream. I'm standing in a crowd trapped in a room that's almost pitch black and there's these little bits of light swarming around us like fireflies. We keep reaching out for them, but they go out the minute anybody captures one. And then, there's this noise. There's something in darkness, and it's coming for us."

The hairs on the back of Ianto's neck rose.

"'And I heard, but I understood not: then said I, O my Lord, what shall be the end of these things?'" Eric recited.

Ianto gulped down the rest of his coffee. "I need to go," he said as he dabbed his mouth with a napkin.

"Hey, I didn't mean to freak you out."

"You didn't. I… I have somewhere I should be."

"Well, you gotta do what you gotta do."

Ianto stood up and moved quickly to the door.

Eric called out, "It was good talking to you."

Ianto looked back at barista. It occurred to him that he should say something that would excuse his abrupt exit or tell him to be careful because who knows what was coming out of the dark. It also occurred to him that this was the first real conversation that he's had with someone outside of Torchwood in a very long time. He and Eric could have been friends had circumstances been different.

Guilt, loss, loneliness -- Ianto wondered if Jack felt all of that while hiding so many things from him.

Ianto nodded and slipped out the door.


	10. Captain Jack Harkness Jack POV

On a rational level, Jack knew what he was doing was an act of futility. Yet, every time he stood up to flip the record on the turntable or put on a new one, as soon as he sat down again, he refreshed the browser on his computer. And every time he did so, the same article appeared: "Sweetheart Proud of Slain Hero." Next to it was a picture of the real Captain Jack Harkness. The words never changed; Jack knew this because he had read and reread the article so many times, he could recite it by heart.

Jack knew he shouldn't expect anything to change. Surely Captain Harkness wouldn't have altered anything he did the next day. He was faithful to the men who served under him -- one of the things that Jack loved about him.

And Jack wanted to believe that the kiss had no negative consequences. He kept telling himself that the soldiers respected Captain Harkness enough to overlook one small moment. Tosh had suggested that the their abrupt disappearance most likely overshadowed any romantic spectacle. She also told him that it didn't matter what the other men thought; the only thing that mattered was what Captain Harkness felt.

Jack kept telling himself that things happened the way they were supposed to, but he found little solace in the sentiment. Captain Harkness had been killed, and Nancy Floyd was cast as the grieving sweetheart. Never mind the man's true desires. If it's in print, it must be true. Jack supposed that Captain Harkness's mother took comfort in the idea that her son had a girl who loved him so, but every time, he read Nancy's quote about the two of them planning a future, Jack seethed in anger.

However, that there was nothing that could be done. World War Two was history, and Jack was now in the "right" time period (although that was an absurd thought).

The sound of the alarm disrupted Jack's reverie. When the giant cog rolled open, Ianto stepped into the hub, still wearing the same suit, but he carried a garment bag and backpack.

Jack stepped out of his office. They stared at each other awkwardly for a few seconds before Jack said, "I thought I told you to go home."

"You did," Ianto replied.

"Why aren't you there?"

"I was feeling a bit restless."

"So you came here?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Ianto paused to choose his words carefully. "I was worried."

"Whatever Tosh told you, I don't need you to baby sit. I --"

"I was worried about the rift."

"If anything happens, I'll give you a call."

"I'd rather stay here. I promise you that I won't get in the way of whatever it is you're doing, but don't send me home," Ianto said.

"And you're planning to spend the night?"

"In the archives, yes. Now, do I have your permission, sir?"

"I don't know why you're asking if you're going to stay anyway. Go on," Jack said as he went back into the office.

"If you need anything," Ianto called out after him.

Jack stopped, but didn't turn around. He replied, "No, I'm fine."

That was that. Both men retreated to their corners of the hub.

In an effort to get to know the RAF hero posthumously, Jack had decided to piece together the life of Captain Harkness and searched for any small bit of information he could get his hands on. Unfortunately, Jack uncovered several forged documents he had used when he stole the hero's identity.

He decided to focus on the soldier's early years instead. As he navigated through an archive that was, weirdly enough, run by Mormons, he considered calling Ianto for help. However, when Jack accessed the CCTV, Ianto seemed busy with his own research. Sitting on the couch in the reading corner, the young man sifted through a large pile of reports with a worried expression on his face. He paused after reading one and made a few quick notes before moving onto the next one.

Jack sighed. He refreshed his browser once more. Captain Harkness was still dead.

True to his word, Ianto remained invisible for the next hour. However, in his silence, Ianto never seemed more present. Every fleeting shadow in the corner of Jack's eye became Ianto's slouching figure. Every odd clank in the hub became one of his footsteps. Jack kept waiting for the scent of coffee to waft into his office. But there was nothing.

Then, Myfanwy began to caw or screech. The damn dinosaur knew her Ianto was somewhere in the hub and therefore wanted the extra treat she always got from the him when he stayed late. Christ, he spoiled that pteranadon when he was in a good mood. Jack poked his head out the door, fully expecting to see the young man standing out in the main floor and wearily trying to placate the leather bird. However, Ianto was nowhere to be seen.

After a particularly ear-splitting screech, Jack stomped into the kitchen and fetched a piece of chicken, which he tossed at Myfanwy.

"There. Are you happy now?" Jack asked.

The dinosaur made a small chirping noise before accepting it.

As soon as he was back in his chair, Jack accessed the CCTV to check up on the young man, only to discover that Ianto was speaking to someone on the phone and making notes of their conversation. Jack turned on the volume and heard Ianto say, "Could you repeat that please?… Yes, thank you…"

Ianto grabbed a thick book with a soft leather cover and flipped through it until he found the right page. He kept his finger on the page and mouthed a few words that Jack couldn't make out.

"Yes, that's it… I must say, I'm impressed by your memory… No, that won't be necessary. I think I have all I need," the young man said. He laughed and rubbed the back of his head. "No, I didn't think you were trying to convert me… Yes, I do realize that you would be the last person to do so… Thank you for your help. It is greatly appreciated.…"

Continuing to eavesdrop on the conversation, Jack looked up the number that Ianto had dialed. He was hoping to see the number for Torchwood Two, or even UNIT. However, Ianto had called the café where he usually bought his coffee beans.

Inside the achives, Ianto sank back into the couch. He had a small smile on his face and played with his tie absentmindedly. "It's for the sake of broadening my own knowledge… Well, yes, the dream you told me about did intrigue me… I suppose it is morbid…" He laughed again. "What would Carl Jung say, indeed?… No, I didn't get a chance to talk to _Jack_… Because that's his name… I'll see you next Tuesday… Yes, that would be lovely… Good night."

Once he hung up, Ianto turned his attention to whatever he was researching. Placing his palms on the coffee table, he exhaled deeply, and his placid expression turned into anxiety.

Jack couldn't imagine who Ianto would speak to at a late hour, but he didn't like it. He stormed towards the archives, mulling over an assortment of tactics that he could use to question his employee.

When Jack opened the door, Ianto stopped what he was doing. He stood up and, with a practiced bow, asked, "Did you need something?"

"No," Jack said with an innocent smile. "Thought I'd see how you were doing."

The men sat side by side on the couch.

Jack asked, "What exactly are you working on?"

The young man blushed. "A hunch… you'd find it silly."

"This hunch… is that why you're here?"

"In part."

Jack looked through the stacks of paper on the coffee table. The young man had pulled every file for every major rift incident since the year Torchwood had been established. Ianto held the file for the Cardiff earthquake in both hands. Jack didn't have to read that one; that report was nothing more than a string of lies he wrote himself to cover up his and the Doctor's involvement. The older man chuckled and kept sifting through the pile.

Then, Jack saw the book Ianto was flipping through during his phone call. Next to it was a list of chapters and verses written in Ianto's handwriting. He must have been taking notes of the conversation.

"Who were you speaking to?" Jack asked

"Pardon?"

"Just a few minutes ago. You were on the phone with someone."

There was a slight flicker of apprehension of Ianto's face, but he brushed it away before he said, "An acquaintance. An expert of sorts whose knowledge on a particular subject is broader than mine."

"Did you share any sensitive information with him?"

Ianto scoffed, "Of course, not. I know how to get what I need without giving myself away."

Jack knew that much was true, but he let the comment go without a sarcastic retort that wouldn't help matters. Instead, he asked, "So this expert? What's his or her field?"

"Theology… he studied at a seminary."

"You called a priest. At a café?"

"He's not a priest."

"No?"

"He never took his final vows. He decided he'd rather roast coffee. Look, I inquired about a few biblical passages for my own interest. That is all."

Unfortunately, Jack couldn't decide if Ianto was lying or was merely irritated by the all of the questions. Yet, Jack still had one more for the young man, "You don't actually believe in all of that stuff, do you?"

"After dealing with pendants that allow individuals to read minds or machines that allow people to see into the future, is it really that difficult to believe that a man walked on water? Or could raise the dead for that matter?"

This time it was Jack's turn to scoff, "Yeah, when you know that these stories are made up. The good book also says that God created the Earth, man and all the animals in seven days--"

"Six. On the seventh day, he rested."

"Six, then," Jack said, throwing up his hands. "But, you try telling that story to Myfanwy. I reckon she'd disagree."

"I'm sure she would if she could speak," Ianto muttered. It was clear that he'd gone into auto pilot. He wasn't going to make a witty comeback. He wasn't even going to defend his point of view. He didn't even look at Jack. Instead, he flipped through a stack of photographs taken at an archeological dig of an alleged holy site.

"Ianto, what are you working on? What are you looking for?"

The young man sighed and shook his head in exasperation. Yet, he appeared to be frustrated by his own research and not by Jack's presence, "I don't really know."

"You must have some idea."

"No, I don't. It's nothing more than a hunch," he said as he leaned back into the couch. He glanced at Jack and said, "But I'm afraid that if I tried to explain it to you, you'd only mock me."

"And what should that tell you?"

Ianto shrugged and replied, "I'm working on faith, Jack. After months of following your orders, I've gotten used to working that way."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"There are days when we don't really know what we're up against. Most of the time, all we have to go on is your word, and, to be frank, your sizeable knowledge and experience seems to stretch far beyond that of man your age -- not that we know what your actual age is."

"I never liked birthdays," Jack said.

Ianto ignored the retort and continued, "You are aware that you're the biggest mystery in this place. You get knocked about all the time in a manner that might kill most men, but there you are sitting next to me. I've also read the files, and there are certain things that don't add up. Come today, we confirm our suspicions that Jack Harkness isn't your real name. We don't even know how you came to Torchwood. That particular file is missing. I could go on and on listing the things about you that don't make sense, and I still follow your orders, no matter how ethical, with the idea -- no make that the hope -- that I'm doing the right thing."

"Okay. What did I miss? Where is all this coming from?"

The young man's eyes widened in surprise, and he let out a sarcastic laugh, "I shot a colleague today, Jack. I did it after making excuses for your secrecy. But the thing is… I'm really no better than Owen. He opened the rift because he had the faith to believe that he could bring Diane back. I shot him out of my faith in you."

"You did it to protect the rift."

"Yes, because you told us all not to mess with the rift. You were never specific on what the consequences might be, if any, but, I took you at your word."

"You did the right thing, and you stood up to him. Quite frankly, after all the abuse Owen has dished out, it was about time."

"Yes, I stood up to him, but after trying to reason with him, after coming to blows with him, after losing control of the situation -- and really that has to be one of the worst feelings in the world -- I shot the man in an act of desperation. And I still failed to stop him."

Jack wasn't sure if the rant was really about him or if Ianto was just beating himself up after a bad day. He knew that he had to say something to ease the young man's mind; however, all he could come up with was, "I don't understand what I'm supposed to say or do."

"I expected you to give orders and prepare us for what might happen next, but instead you shut yourself in your office. You taught me to fear the rift. Well, I do. What am I supposed to do at home when I'm worried that the whole thing might split open, spewing out God knows what?"

"For starters, you can get some rest while things are still quiet," Jack said. He reached out and touched the back of Ianto's neck, but the muscles only tensed up at the touch. Jack sighed and pulled his hand away.

"What about you, Jack?"

"I'm looking after the rift."

"But what about you? When do you rest? Do you even need rest? Some days, it seems as if you don't."

Jack said nothing.

"Another mystery," Ianto said. "The thing about faith… sometimes it can be stubborn and all-consuming."

"But a little bit of doubt can reveal the cracks under the surface," Jack said. "Yeah, I know."

"And nights like these I wonder how is it that we actually trust one another with our lives."

"We just have to. Who else do we have?"

"Will that always be a good enough reason? I understand why we keep secrets from outsiders, but some of those things that you're hiding, Jack -- don't you think that we'd be able to deal with the truth after all that we've seen?"

"Ianto, I want you to know that I don't tell people certain things because it changes the way they look at me. There are things in my past that I don't want to think about, things that I don't even know how to explain."

"It must be exhausting having to keep so much to yourself."

"You should know. You're pretty mysterious yourself," Jack said. He meant to sound like he was only teasing, but there was a hint of accusation in his words as well.

Of course, Ianto picked up on it. "Well, the extraordinary stuff you already know. Everything else about me is quite mundane."

"A secret is a secret."

"What I keep to myself is personal. It doesn't concern work."

"Right, because our relationship is only about work."

"This whole thing between us," Ianto said. "It was supposed to be simple."

"Work, train, fuck, and everything neatly compartmentalized. Yeah, I remember."

"It was supposed to be fun with no strings attached, but now everything is muddled. My whole life is this place,… and you…" Suddenly, Ianto was small, vulnerable and frightened. He was almost quivering. Unable to finish his sentence, he merely looked away.

Jack couldn't say anything either. He'd always assumed that Ianto didn't want anything beyond what they had. In fact, Jack had to push, prod, and pry his way into the young man's life, and every simple act of affection was met with resistance.

"I should," Ianto stammered as he put on his armor once again. "I should get back to work."

"Wait a minute. Do we talk about this? What do we do?"

For a moment, Ianto stared at the files before him as if he was seeing right through them and into a bottomless pit. "That's too large a question for me to answer right this minute," he answered. He collected himself and picked up an old rift report. "Besides, I'd like to do something that might be useful before I fall asleep."

"Right. The rift. But we'll talk later, yeah?"

"Perhaps we should," Ianto mumbled.

"Maybe once this whole rift business dies down."

"Yes. There's work to do."

Jack awkwardly placed and hand on Ianto's knee. He gave it a squeeze and said, "Just so you know, when I took The History of Humanity as a teen in school, I don't remember anything about the world ending in the 21st century."

Ianto raised an eyebrow and replied, "But this is the century when everything changes."

"I do say that a lot, don't I?"

"It's catchy," Ianto said with a small smile. "You wouldn't happen to know any more specifics, would you?"

"I wasn't exactly teacher's pet."

"I'd just feel better if I knew what was coming."

"We don't. We just have to be ready for anything," Jack said. It was strange. After all the annoyance and the grief, Jack wanted to pull Ianto close to him. He didn't. Things between them felt so up in the air.

"But perhaps there's a few clues in here somewhere," Ianto mumbled.

"I doubt it, but if it makes you feel any better to look, be my guest. Just promise me you won't stay up too late, okay?"

"I suppose that I'll want to be rested before the shit hits the fan."

"Maybe it won't be so bad."

"Maybe… You think?" Ianto asked. When Jack didn't reply, he said, "You really should have paid more attention in school."

"Good night, Ianto."

"Good night, Captain."

--

Jack went back into his office. The same article -- "Sweetheart Proud of Slain Hero" -- was on his screen.

Jack realized that he wanted to believe that history had been changed by the sheer grace of his presence. He wanted to believe that by some fluke -- something that a person like Ianto would call a miracle -- Captain Harkness had survived the following day, and that he went on to many other great things. Perhaps, he had found someone to love in the way Jack couldn't. But it was blind faith, and there was no time to brood.

Jack closed his browser, cancelled his search and shifted his full attention to the rift.


End file.
